Father and Son
by TurtleHeart
Summary: Jack finds himself once again stuck in Shipwreck Cove, but this time it is him and the father he never got along with. Forced to be together, Jack and Teague have the time to do something they never have-become father and son. R&R!
1. Chapter 1

By the way, if you don't already know, i dont own anything you can't buy from Pirates of the Caribbean.

**Chapter One**

As Jack Sparrow continued to bail water from his ship, he recalculated his options. One: he could continue to bail water from his ship and hope for the best. Two: abandon ship and swim for land. Three: stop bailing and wait to see what the storm's options are. None of them were of much advantage to him however. As usual, it didn't look good for him again.

A wave toppled Jack backward.

"Calypso, enough! Bloody goddess, should have killed you meself. Wot did I ever do to you to deserve this?" he shouted to the black sky.

Another wave toppled on top of him. Jack spit out the water. Apparently it was best if he just kept his mouth shut. He didn't see why he had to be punished by Calypso's fury. He did nothing wrong that he could think of at the moment.

Glancing around him, he saw the situation was not improving as well as he would have hoped for. The waves doubled in height, the sky above was black as death except the suddenly-becoming-more-consistent lightening.

"Well, this is just terrific," Jack muttered to himself as he bailed more water from his ship. "All I want to do is find the bloody Fountain of Youth. How difficult is that? Why did he have to take the _Pearl_ again? There are plenty of other ships better than the _Pearl_." Jack reconsidered that thought a moment. "There's only one better and that one is never in this world. I wonder how he is anyway. Not good! Stop worrying about him Jackie. You need to save your own soul."

Continuing to keep his balance and curse Calypso more, Jack bailed his little ship more. He wasn't sure if anything could get worse than this. As if a reply to that question, he watched as up suddenly became sideways and the horizon seem to be up.

Jack's eyes widened in terror as he turned his head behind him seeing nothing but a near vertical drop down the wave. "Not good," he noted as he clung to the mast of his ship.

Seeing it fit to do no more, he held on for his life as his ship toppled backwards. He was pushed far under the surface by the wave. Once his orientation returned, he frantically moved his arms and legs about, not knowing what was up and what was down. Feeing himself move a certain direction, he decided that was up and hoped for the best.

Fortune seemed to be on his side, as it usually was before near death experiences. His lungs were once again reunited with clean air. He treaded water trying to keep his face above the surface that could very well lead to a watery death. The more he thought about dying there in the middle of the Caribbean Sea, the more he realized how much of an insulting death it would be. Jack Sparrow, drown at sea because he lost his ship again.

He felt himself being lifted into the air. He paddled faster to keep up with the pace of the wave. Out on the horizon was the almost most beautiful that he had ever seen; it was the edge of the storm and the sun beginning to peek from out of the clouds.

"Ha!" Jack shouted. "Thought you kill me he eh? Well, you were wrong again. I, Captain Jack Sparrow, will overcome you again Calypso. It wont be the fi-"

Jack toppled below the waves once more. Because he had not a moment to prepare for this fate, his lungs already starved for air. As before, he allowed his body to float toward the surface then he assisted himself to the surface.

"Are you quite finished yet?" he asked. A tiny wave rolled into his face. "Apparently not."

Something bumped against his feet. He turned as part of the hull floated next to him. Having no other option, he clambered aboard the pieces of wood and held on for dear life. After a few minutes, he found himself finding it more easy to dive into the wave rather than fight against it, but, because he was holding his breath for long amounts of time and not having the time to breathe normal, he began to see black dots in front of him. His heart rapidly beat inside of him and his lungs starved for a constant supply of air.

Though he thought I would never happen, the waves and intense sea began to dull slowly. Above him, light poked through the black clouds. Thunder rumbled behind him as lightening no longer provided his only light. The sun was on his face once more. He smiled.

"See, I told ya," he whispered to the water.

Just when he thought the storm was ended, he felt himself rise once more. Because it happened more than once, he knew he was being dragged up with a wave.

Jack realized the wave that was dragging him up ward came from behind. Once again he calculated his options. One: he would fall gently back into the water and float toward the sunset. Two: he wouldn't fall so gently back into the water and would somehow manage to stay alive. Three: the wave would push him father underwater than he had been before that entire day and, since he was barely conscious already from lack of air, be forced to die. Somehow, he knew it would be option three. Unfortunately, he did plummet back to the water level and was dragged under more deep than he had been. Not bothering to waste away his strength again, and for the simple fact that he barely had enough consciousness inside him, he let himself alone.

Random images came before his mind. They were of everything he ever knew in his life. His mother, terrible teenage years, Bill Turner looking after him, the mutiny, all that happened in the past two years, the Locker and seeing dozens of himself walk around, the final battle, and his beloved _Black Pearl_ once again sailing away without him.

Just as he thought it was all over, air came to his lungs once more. It was the surface. He had a minute amount of strength left inside of him. It was just enough to pull himself onto the small pieces of wood that remained from his ship.

Inside, his heart was rapidly beating, but his lungs felt heavy and full already. Trying to breathe resulted in no more than choking. Not wanting more pain, he simply held his breath. Breathing did no good so why would he torture himself? His lungs were already heavy and full of something. His body was aching and tired. He simply felt cold and weak.

_Is this what it's like to die then? I kinda always was curious about what dying fells like. I suppose it feels something like this._

Distantly, from what part of his mind was conscious, Jack felt himself being pulled upward. He was hit in the chest hard. Immediately, he began choking water. The pressure and heaviness inside his lungs was slowly fading away. He gasped for air. Slowly his mind cleared as the air was returning blood to it. Dull, blurry figures were looking down on him, one of them held a lantern. Not quite finished, he choked and coughed a bit more. Finished, at least he thought so, he blinked hard while staring at the figures above him. He stared and pointed at one particular.

"Will?" he asked.

"Hello Jack Sparrow," replied Captain Turner.

Convinced he had completely lost his mind, Jack's eyes rolled back inside his head as his last bit of consciousness was lost.

Jack opened his eyes hours later; he was lying on a couch in a warm cabin. A blanket was wrapped around him snugly. The room was a mess, in the process of organization. There was something about the room that was more beautiful that the _Pearl's_ cabin. It was unfair. Nothing should have been more beautiful than his precious _Pearl_ that he suddenly began to miss more and more.

Now that his mind was more alert and awake, he noticed the throbbing and severe pain in his head. Not only that, his left arm was numb. He touched his head and groaned. This was something new. It wasn't the cloth of his red bandana. It was much softer. His eyes growing wide and worried, he felt the end of the cloth and began to pull down.

A hand grabbed his hand to stop him. "Oh no you don't."

Jack turned his head, gazing into the face of one worried Bill Turner. He squeezed his eyes shut again. A moment later he peeked out of one eye.

"What are you doing?" wondered Bill.

"Are you here?" Jack asked.

"Aye," replied Bill, nodding his head. "And so are you."

"Oh," Jack whispered.

"Jack!" a voice cried in relief. "What were you doing out there?"

"What was I doing out there? What are you doing in this world Will?" asked Jack.

"I need a new crew," replied Will. Seeing the confused expression on Jack's face, he continued. "A hurricane. A ship getting caught in the hurricane. Dying sailors Jack. Does that sound familiar to you at all?"

Jack gave a single nod of his head, before his face went pale. A cold shiver ran through him. He opened his eyes. Blackness consumed him.

"Will, where are you?" he whimpered.

Palms cupped his cheeks and moved his head. "I'm right here Jack."

"I can't see you," said Jack.

"You'll be fine. I'm right here."

Jack heard Will's voice, but saw nothing. He couldn't determine if he was blinking or not. A few moments passed before his vision returned.

"You're spinning now," he noted, his voice trembling and face suddenly becoming a sickly pale shade.

"Shut your eyes Jack," Will whispered, gently brushing his hand across Jack's eyes to be certain they were shut.

"Place this on the back of his neck. It will clear him," whispered Bill.

Will gave a weak smile of thanks as he took the damp rag from his father. As he was told, he lifted Jack's head to place the rag on the back of his neck.

"Wot happened to me?" Jack asked.

"We found you at sea. You weren't breathing when we found you. So, we brought you back and got you dry. Later I had someone take a look at you. It was then we discovered your arm to be bent awkwardly and your head swelling. Apparently you bruised your skull and you're suffering from a severe concussion Jack," replied Will.

"Why can't I feel me arm?" wondered Jack.

"It's broken," said Bill.

"Just bloody wonderful," muttered Jack.

"Rest Jack. I want you to rest today," said Will.

Jack sighed as his body fell limply against the couch.

"I don't think that was him falling asleep," noted Bill.

"He probably lost consciousness again," said Will. He looked at his father. "What are we going to do with him?"

"I was intending to leave him in Tortuga, but I'm not doing that now. He's in no condition to be left alone. He needs to be in the care of another."

"And who will look after Jack Sparrow? Jack is an outcast, he's wanted dead, and he's a pirate. No one in right mind will look after him."

"No one but his own family," added Bill.

"He has no family," said Will.

"He has his father," noted Bill.

"Jack has a father?" asked Will.

"Jack's father is Edward Teague Will. Jack's father is Keeper of the Code," replied Bill.

"I don't know who that is. I was on the _Endeavor_ when the Brethren met," reminded Will.

"Well then, we'll just have to introduce you to him now won't we?" said Bill. "We're only a few hours away from Shipwreck Cove. Jack will be safe there." He looked at Jack then muttered under his breath. "At least I think Jack will be safe there."

Will understood what his father said, but made no notion that he heard him.

Just as Bill said, the _Flying Dutchman_ arrived in the mouth of Shipwreck Cove in less than four hours. Unfortunately, Jack was still in his state of unconsciousness and his face a bit more pale than Bill would have liked.

Will on the other side of things, stared at the fortress constructed of ships understanding the meaning of Shipwreck this and Shipwreck that. It was a magnificent fortress. The firelight reflected in the water like stars in the sky. The water was calm causing the ship to sail in smoothly. Unlike before, not one ship was docked.

"Are you sure someone is here to look after him?" Will asked his father who just joined him.

"There is always one person here and I've always known him to be Jack's father," replied Bill.

"Are you sure you can trust Jack to be with him alone?" asked Will again.

Bill looked at him then studied his son's eyes. "If I didn't know any better I would say you are worried about Jack."

"A little," admitted Will quietly as he slightly turned the wheel to align the starboard side of the ship with the dock most in front of the entrance.

"Curiosity. Why?" asked Bill.

"Because," replied Will.

"Because why?" asked Bill.

"Because I've known him for so long to know that there is another side of him that's weak and lonely and starving for something. I don't want him to think I'm abandoning him."

"He knows you have something more important than worrying about him to do," said Bill.

"Does he really know what he's done to me?" wondered Will.

"I think he knew what he was doing and did it for a reason," said Bill.

"What reason then?" asked Will, his tone becoming harsh and furious. "I don't know what's become of anyone. I don't what happened to Elizabeth after leaving her alone on that island. And Jack, Jack didn't have the _Pearl_ when we found him. Tell me, what happened to his ship and why was he not on it?"

Bill shut his eyes. "Not good," he muttered to himself. "I can name one reason why Jack wasn't on the _Pearl_ when we found him. A certain ex-first mate mutinied again."

"That wouldn't pose as a shock to me. Jack and Barbossa were consistently bickering over who was captain. When one said an order the other followed until someone shut the two of them up. So, Jack Sparrow was mutinied again and left in the middle of the ocean to die. I don't think his father will be pleased to hear what happened again."

"I hope not at least," said Bill, a glint of fear beginning to come through from behind his eyes. Pushing that aside, he looked at Will. "Bring Jack. I can handle everything up here."

"Are you sure?" asked Will.

"I do believe I can dock a ship and furl the sails and tie down the ropes," said Bill. "I've been on a ship since birth."

Will nodded as he walked from his father and down the helm stairs.

Bill looked forward wondering how these events were going to turn out. He was first from the ship, his excuse being he had to tie down the ropes. From the corner of his eye, he saw a sailor sitting against a crate that was at the edge of the dock. He rolled his eyes.

"Maccus, can you finish this? I have business to do with him," he requested.

Maccus nodded and took the rope Bill was tying down. "Of course and I'm sorry to say that I agree with Will. Can this man be trusted? If Jack is losing consciousness suddenly and without warning-"

"Maccus trust me. I _know_ Jack will be all right," said Bill. He walked forward a few step then turned and walked backwards. "Have I ever been wrong before?"

"Once or twice," Maccus muttered to himself.

Bill stood over the sleeping sailor. He took the half full bottle from curled inside the sailor's arms then kicked him a few times.

"Be gone with ye. Captain Teague wishes to speak with no one."

Bill took a swig from the bottle. "What about an old friend?"

"No one. Those were me orders."

"Well, I'm not No One. In fact, do you know a man named No One? I don't and I do have a proper name," said Bill.

"Oh really?" the sailor asked as he tilted his hat to look into Bill's face. "What's yer name then?"

"Come now Charles, don't you remember your old friend Bill Turner?" asked Bill.

The sailor more piratical known as Les Char slumped against the crate more. "He's dead, press ganged into Davy Jones's crew."

"Last I heard Davy Jones was replaced by a certain Will Turner who is also a certain son of mine. In fact, take a peek yourself. The _Dutchman_ is right here," said Bill. He took another drink. "Ah, Teague always did have fine taste in wine."

"And how'd ye know my name is Charles?" asked Les Char.

Bill pulled the hat from his head. "Char, trust me, I'm Bill Turner.

Les Char study Bill a moment. His eyes grew wide as he jumped to his feet. He shook Bill's hand, which led to shaking Bill's entire body. "Sun and stars, Bill it's you. You're back from the dead. By God, Teague was right. He said it wouldn't surprise him if you two met again someday."

"Where is the old sea dog?" asked Bill, pulling his shaking hand away.

"Adding to the Code of course," replied Les Char.

"Tell him I've come back with Jack," said Bill.

Les Char sighed. "Again. What does he have now?"

"Just bring him here," said Bill.

"I'm not impressed with this Teague's crew. Drunk on the dock," said Will from behind his father.

"He wasn't drunk. Have you ever heard of a man falling asleep with a bottle of wine in his arms?" asked Bill.

"Falling asleep with rum in his arms perhaps, but not wine," admitted Will.

"Precisely," said Bill. He looked in his son's arms.

Jack was still out cold. A blanket, the only blanket the ship had, was still wrapped around him. Apparently Will took the liberty to remove the beads from Jack's hair as well as wash the rest of the kohl from around Jack's eyes. Jack was also wearing no more than his tunic and breeches. His bare feet hung limply. Awkwardly, they were rather bronze. Unfortunately, Will had also set Jack's arm in a sling, the white cloth both on his arm and around his head matching Jack's face.

"I never realized just how young and thin he is until I took everything off," noted Will.

"You know why Jack wears what he does. It adds weight to him and makes him seem less helpless," said Bill.

"I know why he wears layers of clothes as well. I've never seen scars like Jack has," added Will.

"Jack's had a rough life. The story of his body is merely half of what he's been through," said Bill.

The doors to the fortress were pushed open.

Will looked at man who looked very similar to Jack: dreadlocks, beads, bandana, striking bold colored sashes, and an ornately decorated deep red coat. Upon his face was a small smile.

"Eddy, it's been too long," said Bill.

Edward Teague nodded. Taking Bill's hand. After a moment of shaking his hand, he wrapped an arm around Bill's shoulders. "I thought you were doomed on that ship under Jones's command."

"Jack changed that," said Bill.

Teague looked at Will a moment in curiosity. He pointed a Will. "So, this is the famous Will Turner then?"

"Not much is he?" asked Bill.

Will gave his father a glare.

"No, he's more than anything on the sea Bill. He masters the seas and commands the most influential and powerful ship on the horizon." His eyes looked upon the ship, suddenly becoming confused. "Where's the _Pearl_?"

"We don't know," replied Bill.

Teague rolled his eyes as he stepped closer to Will. He looked down on Jack and began studying his son's condition. "Pale, dead color in his face. Slight shivering. Weak, steady pulse. Slow, but good breathing." He looked at Bill. "Pneumonia?"

"It's more of a broken arm, soaked to the bone, severe concussion," replied Bill.

Teague rolled his eyes again. "Not the first time. Come on, let's get him settled."

"I suppose he doesn't seem that bad," Will whispered to his father.

"No, he's not at all bad. He's a good man Will, a very good man," said Bill.

"Is he as odd as Jack?" wondered Will.

"No, Teague is a sane a person as you will ever meet, though he's had his moments…several of his moments," said Bill.

They got Jack settled in a large bed in a redwood room. Teague tucked a black blanket around his boy then set a thin one over Jack to keep the heat around his son.

Will looked around the room. It was definitely designated for Jack; it was a mess with all the charts and nautical uses scattered about.

"So, you're the new captain then," noted Teague.

"What makes you say that?" Will asked obviously.

"Well, you have a scar across your chest worthy of Jackie. Your father is at your side and, last I heard, was aboard the _Flying Dutchman_. Elizabeth Swann is your wife. And did I mention every Pirate Lord knows who you are?" said Teague.

"Aye. They know me but they did nothing to not know me," said Will.

"Don't blame what's happened on the past. You can't change the past lad. Believe me, I've tried to change the past. No good comes from it," said Teague. He turned his eyes to Jack. "I didn't change much of the future either."

"About that," began Bill. "Ah, Eddy, I can't drag Jack back with me once he's well. I'm currently in the process of ferrying souls with my son."

Teague nodded until his entire body slumped. He looked at Bill. "What do you mean you can't bring Jack with you."

"Jack is alive and not part of the crew. We can't take him with us," repeated Bill.

"Can't you leave him in Tortuga?" asked Teague.

"Tortuga is a two day journey from here even with the fastest ship on the seas. We have a duty to do in the other world," said Bill.

"Then what are you doing in this world?" wondered Teague, fury growing inside his eyes.

"I need new crewmembers for my ship. Most of them were granted permission to move on," said Will.

"You are _not_ leaving me with Jack," said Teague.

"What's wrong with Jack? Sure he's a bit odd, but he is your son," noted Will.

"Exactly, he's my son," said Teague. "I don't want anything to do with Jack. Bill you have to take him to Tortuga. Take him anywhere but here."

"There is nowhere else to take him," said Bill.

"You are _not_ leaving him here," Teague told him as he stood to face Bill.

"And where do you propose we take him?"

"Tortuga, Hispania, Port Royal, Isla Hermosa- take him to the Colonies for God's sake."

"And who will look after him?"

"Someone will."

"Jack is a wanted criminal. No one will look after him. They'll kill him instead."

"That's not my problem then is it? Jack wound himself up in this mess. I had nothing to do with it."

"You've always had something to do with it Eddy. Why will you not tell Jack the truth?"

"If I tell him the truth he won't believe me."

"Because you've never shown him the truth. I have seen the truth. I grew tired of taking Jack back after you knew he would be fine. Jack is staying here and I'm leaving."

"Why does Jack need to stay here anyway? He looks fine to me."

"He won't survive alone like this."

"He's survived being alone for twenty nine years. I think he can survive being on his own for the rest of his life."

"Teague, do you think Jack can survive being alone if he loses consciousness suddenly? His arm is broken. What can he do with one arm alone? This concussion he's suffering from makes me wonder why he didn't lose his memory. His skull is bruised. He went blind when he woke then lost consciousness nearly immediately afterward. He's been like this since. Jack can't take care of himself. _You_ have to take care of him. You _have_ to be the father this time." Bill hollered the fury and anger inside his raging eyes.

Will looked at the two of them as they glared at each other not understanding a single thing that was happening. Everything his father said made no sense in his mind.

"Perhaps Will is right. Maybe you aren't the best thing for Jack," noted Bill.

"You know I am," said Teague.

"Jack doesn't. I am the only other soul who knows about you and Jack. Not even your own son knows he is your life and reason to live. _That_ is the tragedy of this situation. Now that you're going to be left _alone_ with Jack for the first time ever, you suddenly hate him again," noted Bill.

"I have reason to hate him," said Teague.

Bill turned to Will. He pointed at him. "I have plenty to hate about my son, but that will never prevent me from holding him when he needs to feel loved or being a father to him."

"That's you Bill, not me," muttered Teague.

"You hate Jack? You hate your own son?" interjected Will.

Silence among both of them. They looked at Will.

Teague's eyes lowered and eventually shut. He slumped in a chair beside Jack and stared into his face. He made no notion of showing that he intended to answer that question.

Will looked at his father.

Bill shook his head. He sighed heavily as he sat beside Jack on the bed.

* * *

Jack began stirring a bit more than he had been for quite a few hours. As the three around him hoping for, his warm, chocolate eyes to open. They blinked and stared at the ceiling.

"Jack," whispered Will, causing Jack to look at him. "How are you feeling?"

"Terrible," replied Jack. "Me head aches worse than when I've had half the supply of rum. Will, do I still have me left arm cuz I can't feel it?"

Will couldn't help the smile that went across his face. "Aye, you still have your arm. It's broken."

"Jackie."

Hearing that voice again, Jack's breath suddenly stopped as he his widened. He looked at Will in fear and terror.

Looking at the blanket, Will watched the edge slightly pulse rapidly. He looked into Jack's terrified eyes.

"Jackie."

Inhaling deeply as if to brace himself, he turned his head to look at his father. As usual, Teague bore the same stoic, angry look.

"Don't hurt me," he whispered.

"You've done that yourself Jack. I have no need this time," said Teague.

"This time?" asked Will.

Jack bit his lip, wanting to say something, but deciding against it.

"Jackie, where's the _Pearl_?" asked Teague.

"I must have fallen from her deck in the middle of the hurricane. Winds demanding. Waves tall. Storm unpredictable," said Jack.

"Don't you lie to me boy," Teague growled.

Jack cowered under the blanket more. He looked at the pillow. "Barbossa. Again."

"How? How this time?" demanded Teague.

"We were in Tortuga. I gave everyone the day to rest and left the two marines turned pirate and Gibbs aboard. I, meself, went to find Scarlett and Giselle. Gibbs was on the dock and the _Pearl_ out to sea when I came back," explained Jack softly and with a quivering voice.

Unable to control his anger, Teague raised his hand.

Jack squeezed his eyes shut as he braced himself.

Instead of slapping Jack across the face, Teague lowered his hand and stood. He drew a deep breath as he walked to the window.

"Barbossa was kind enough to leave me a dingy," added Jack.

Teague turned and bounded back to Jack. He took a handful of Jack's hair into his hand causing both Bill and Will to tense. "Oh, at least he was kind enough to live you a dingy indeed. Jack this is the second time you've been mutinied by the same person. A true pirate would have killed that murderous traitor."

"He did kill him. Barbossa was brought back from the dead by Calypso," said Will.

Teague shot him a glare. "I'm not talking to you am I?"

Will shook his head.

"It's not my fault he was brought back. I didn't want him back," said Jack.

"Why didn't you kill him after the battle?" asked Teague.

"Because the thought never crossed my mind," admitted Jack.

"Never crossed your mind. What does cross your mind these days Jack? It seems to me you care for no more than to improve upon your selfish interests. Well, you have one correct trait of piracy. You're selfish," said Teague.

"Selfish?" Jack asked. "I'm selfish? I lost me ship again."

"That was you being a fool," said Teague. "Then again, you've always been a weak, sickly thing."

"I am not weak," Jack said.

The three of them watched as Jack somehow managed to sit himself up. Tears of pain were in his eyes.

"Aye, you are weak. Why are there tears in your eyes?" asked Teague.

"Because it hurts," said Jack.

"Hurt and pain are your only two companions. They will always be your only two companions."

"Will and Elizabeth are my friends."

"God knows where Elizabeth is and Will can never be in this world unless he is needed. May I remind you who's doing that is?"

"He would have died."

"Why did you save him Jack? I wonder today why you didn't stab the heart and make yourself captain."

"Because I care about him. Not so selfish am I?"

"Perhaps not, but you're always going to be weak and sickly. You aren't fooling anyone Jack, disguising the illness behind the sashes and titles."

"Fooled me," Will said.

Teague looked at him. "But now you'll never be fooled. I apologize for Jack. You should have never been introduced to him. He brings about nothing but trouble and utter pain."

"I know how that feels," muttered Jack.

"What did you say?" demanded Teague.

"You heard me Teapot."

"How dare you insult me. I am your father Jack Sparrow whether you like it or not."

"I am your son Edward Teague whether _you_ like it or not."

"Why Jack? Why was I the one who had to be a father to you? You've done nothing but cause me trouble and annoyance. The greatest times of my life are when you are not near."

"Then leave where I'll never find you."

"You always find me. One way or another you've always come to find me."

"Because I have no where to go."

"You've never had anywhere to go."

"Wot did I do? I can't recall the numbers of times I've asked that question."

"You did everything Jack. Your problem has always been your own. I've always had to save your hide."

"Why do you save me then?"

"No matter how much I hate to say this you are still a member of this family and you need to pass down your piece of eight to another before you die."

"So you've saved me only so I can pass my piece to another?"

"Quite honestly yes."

"Wot about now? I have no piece of eight. Perhaps you haven't noticed that Calypso is free again."

"They brought you here Jack and now I'm stuck with you."

Jack shot his head to Bill. "You have to take me to Tortuga. I'll be fine on my own."

"I already tried Jack. They won't let me."

"Please," Jack pleaded to his two friends. "Don't leave me here with him. I have enough scars from his doing."

"Again, you did that yourself," said Teague.

Jack ripped the bandage from his head. "Why would I take a ring across me own head?" He pulled the cut in his tunic aside. "Why would I cut myself as deeply as you did?"

"What?!" Will screamed. "You did this to Jack?"

"I had no choice. He wouldn't leave me alone."

"I wanted to make you proud. I wanted to be held by you again. I wanted you to hold me."

"Grow up Jack. You're not a child. You don't need any of that anymore."

"Yes I do. You never gave it to me."

"That's not my problem now is it?" asked Teague. He turned to Bill. "Jack is not staying here. You can find a place for him or I will. If I do I wouldn't expect to hear from him again, not that anyone alive would want to speak to him willingly."

Teague bounded from the room and slammed the door.

Bill sighed as he raced after him. "Eddy…"

Jack stuck his tongue out at the door. Consumed by rage, he threw all the pillows and blankets from the bed across the room as far as his arm allowed. After, he set himself on the couch below the window and stared out to sea as he felt the bruise above his right eye.

Will went around the room collecting the items Jack threw in his rage. He organized them on the bed again. Seeing Jack tremble, he went beside him.

"I'm sorry you had to be here for that," said Jack apologetically. "Fortunately, it may just have been the calmest fight we've been through."

"That was calm?" asked Will.

"Usually, I end up waking at a port somewhere in the middle of nowhere or hacked to pieces," replied Jack calmly.

Will noticed just how calmly Jack was speaking and the expression on his face was his normal, thoughtful look.

Jack shivered a bit; he brought his body closer to him. After Will set a blanket around his arms, he pulled that around him.

"How old are you Jack?" wondered Will.

"Of all the things to ask a person. William, wot has that to do with anything?" asked Jack, looked at Will awkwardly.

"Just answer the question. It's a simple question," said Will.

"I'm thirty six if you must know," replied Jack.

"So the last time you weren't alone was when you were seven?" asked Will.

Jack nodded. "I got used to it."

"When was the last time you were held by someone?" wondered Will.

Jack looked at the clear waters in the Cove. He had never thought about that question until now. "I don't remember."

"When was the last time someone kissed you?" asked Will.

"A year ago," said Jack.

Will rolled his eyes. "Kissed you with love. Even a kiss on the forehead."

"Too long ago to remember the instance," replied Jack.

"And being held for no apparent reason?" asked Will.

"Never happened so why would I know," replied Jack.

"What about the last time someone showed you some form of care and affection?" asked Will.

"You saved me from drowning William," replied Jack.

"When was the last time you cried in someone's arms and was rocked back and forth? What about being rocked asleep or sung to sleep with a lullaby? Have you never been held when you were ill?" asked Will. Jack gave no answer. Will moved Jack's face to look at him. "Do you remember the last time someone told you they loved you?"

Jack looked at Will. His eyes suddenly became filled with tears. Heavy drops fell from his eyes, barely touching his cheeks. "Love? Wot is that?" He brushed away the tears from his eyes. "The more I thought about wot it meant to be captain the more I liked it. Not having a heart mattered to me. Sailing the sea in the other world didn't matter to me. I wouldn't ever see me father again. I wouldn't have to live another day feeling unwanted and unloved."

"What happened then?" asked Will.

"I chose you because I've come to love you like a brother. I wouldn't be able to live with meself knowing Elizabeth was either dead or practically a zombie and you dead by Davy Jones. I had to," replied Jack.

"You wouldn't have felt anything. After all, you wouldn't have had a heart to feel any emotion," noted Will.

"Besides, no one would have wanted me heart. I would have probably buried it on the island you and your bonny lass occupied," said Jack.

"How have you lived this long without having one small scrap of love and care?" wondered Will.

Jack shrugged. "All I ever needed was the freedom of the sea. I knew freedom was inanimate so it couldn't run away from me or scar me. Freedom is the only thing worth living for."

"Jack, why were Sao Feng's charts positioned to the Fountain of Youth?" wondered Will.

"If I became immortal, I wouldn't need anyone. I wouldn't have to worry about dying. I could sail the seas with my beautiful freedom forever," said Jack.

"You know, the human soul craves and thrives on love and affection. You had love somehow and someone was giving it to you. If you didn't have love, you'd be dead. It's a proven fact Jack. The human soul cannot survive without love."

Jack eyes overflowed with tears. His lip trembled. "I never stopped telling meself that one day me father would be proud of me. I keep meself alive with the thought that one day I'll be held and rocked and kissed and adored by him and that he'll tell me that he loves me. After everything he's done to me, I still tell meself that one day he'll say 'I love you' to me. That day hasn't come since when he first abandoned me when I was seven. Seven. I was seven the last time I ever felt loved by someone."

"So you wouldn't remember crying into someone's shoulders as he held you close and rocked you?" assumed Will.

"I already told you I don't remember," said Jack.

Will nodded. "Yes you do, you just don't know about it yet."

Jack looked at him as he tilted his head.

Will sat beside him on the couch. He set both his hands on Jack's shoulders.

Feeling himself being pulled closer, Jack leaned into Will's chest. Feeling Will's warm, strong arms not loosen one bit and Will's jaw above his head, he buried his face against Will's chest as a sudden outburst of emotion came through.

"You probably don't remember the last time you let emotions from you," whispered Will.

Jack's reply was simply softly bawling against Will.

As he said he would, Will tightened the blanket around Jack. He gently swayed back and forth, giving Jack as much love and care as his soul thrived for.

* * *

"EDWARD TEAGUE! TEAGUE!"

Will bellowed his name, Teague's name bounced from the walls of the cove.

"EDWARD TEAGUE!"

Determined he would find him, Will screamed louder. He burst through every door he saw, hollering as he did so. His voice was fierce and angry. The seas inside and around the cove were rough. Storm clouds accumulated overhead. Thunder began to rumble in the distance.

Will burst into the main hall.

Edward Teague stood at the opposite end of the room talking with a few men.

Will pushed everyone aside who was in his way. He grabbed Teague by the shoulders, forcing him against the wall. Anger and rage consuming him, he swiftly pulled his knife from his person and raised it above his head

"Will, no!" Bill cried as he grabbed his son's hand.

"Let me go. I want to kill him!" Will screamed. Bill wrapped his arms around him, struggling to keep Will from attacking Teague. Will looked directly into Teague's eyes. "_You_. Have you any idea what you've put Jack through? Jack wanted to be captain so he would have no heart. He's felt unloved and unwanted for too long. You've slowly killed Jack. All Jack ever wanted was a single arm to go around him. He's only stayed alive because he hopes you'll one day tell him you love him. You've cut Jack, abandoned him since he was seven, ignored him, and not shown a single notion you love him. You're the reason Jack Sparrow is the way he is. You deserve to die and I'm going to kill you."

"No you're not," Bill said gently. "No one is going to die."

"You wouldn't care if Jack killed himself would you?" Will screamed. Before Teague even opened his mouth, he went on. "I'm taking Jack with me. I'm going to make him a member of the crew. He would want the only person who allowed him to cry and held him as he did so to be with him. Jack thinks I am the only person on Earth who loves him. He wants to die. He asked me himself if I wouldn't mind him joining me. I let him cry himself to sleep in my arms. I gave him what you never did."

"What was that?" asked Teague.

"LOVE!" Will screamed.

"Let him go Bill," said Teague.

Before doing so, Bill pulled the knife from Will's hand.

"Come with me William Turner," said Teague.

"Why would I want to do that?" asked Will.

"Because I want to show you something not even Jack has seen," Teague told him. Will moved forward, Bill following close behind. "Bill stay here. You did what I'm about to explain to him."

Suddenly understanding, Bill nodded.

Will followed Edward Teague through Shipwreck City. Along the way neither of them said anything. He was led into a room. Upon taking one step inside, he was unable to move any father.

The room was lined with small tables containing every medical instrument and knife he had ever seen and some of which he didn't want to know the use for. A bookshelf with books that had well been used was beside a cabinet. He saw the small bottles that were on each of the three shelves. A bed was in the center of the room. The sheets and pillows were white. In certain areas faded red stains overcame the red white, the color looking faintly like blood red.

Teague went to one of the tables. He took an odd looking tool into his hand. The claw seemed to be made from two spoons. "This is used for extracting bullets. I've used it twice." He set it down to take a tool with a square claw. "This is used to lift a rib. I've used it more than once." He went around the room brushing his hands across a few things, recalling the one's he's never had need to use and those he's used more than once. He held out thin, but long tweezers. "Make note that this quite effectively removes splinters that have been embodied below skin and between veins." He set that down and took what looked like a belt in his hand. "I used this once to stop the bleeding in Jack's arm and on his leg. The pressure of the band cuts off all blood flow."

Moving to the bookshelf, Teague handed Will a book.

Will flipped through a book. It was of the human anatomy and where each bone was. He took another book about surgical techniques.

"Take a peek here," said Teague, motioning to the shelves of vials.

Will looked at him the knelt. He took a bottle into his hand. Seeing a label, he read it. _Jack malaria._ He took another. _Jack pain. One teaspoon every two hours._ And another. _Jack pneumonia._ Another. _Jack fever._ He took a few in his hands. _Jack yellow fever. Jack infection. Jack surgical recovery. Jack unconsciousness._ Will noticed that was largest bottle of them all.

"Ah that one," said Teague, noting which one Will held. "That's a favorite of mine. Sometimes nothing can cure Jack other than him to be unconscious. I got that recipe from Singapore. The flower used is actually a poison combined with opium from Singapore. One swallow is all it takes for Jack to be lost from the world for an average of a day."

Will set everything back. He looked at Teague.

"Jack's been in this room more times than I can count. Usually he's nearly dead by the time your father got him to me. At least once a year I found myself in here with Bill, trying to keep Jack's life alive. Ask your father some time about what he's helped me do in here. You can have a look around if you want."

Curious, Will did walk around the room. The tools in the room were of the finest quality and in superior condition. One in particular caught his gaze because of it oddness. It looked like it was used to remove a cork from a bottle.

"That one I had to have help for," said Teague, his eyes haunted by the tool. He turned away. "I don't think you know this. I'm the only one who knows about this. Jack fractured his skull when he was thirty-two. Someone knew about me and brought him here. I spent a day of my life holding a bowl as pieces of my son's broken skull were placed into it. A coin replaces the missing bone. I waited a week for Jack to wake. All I could think about was what I had done wrong. I held Jack in my arms, staring at the amount of bandages required to protect the wound and allow it to heal. He did wake and he woke in my arms. I don't think he remembers how many times I told him I loved him and I was sorry for everything. Jack avoided me when all I wanted to do was hold him, because I thought I was going to lose him. He left three days after waking. That was the last time I saw him since the Court meeting. I hadn't heard word about him until it reached me Jack Sparrow was taken by the Kraken. I cried myself to sleep for nearly a week because I never had the chance to say good-bye to him or tell him I loved him. I still love him."

Will bit his lip apologetically. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"So am I. I'm afraid to tell Jack all this because of what I've done to him," said Teague. "I was the one who was frightened and abandoned him in London at a church. I didn't want him to end up like me, reckless, wanted, and enslaved to the world. Every time he found me, I did anything I could to keep him away. I admit, I did cut Jack's forehead with my ring and I did cut him across the chest. I didn't know what else to do. I didn't want him. When your father was with Jack, I dreaded seeing any ship come into this fortress because I knew my son was dying. I let Jack be on his way the moment he was healed because I didn't want him to know I was responsible for healing him. Jack would have died when he was twenty if Bill hadn't thought to bring him here. I spent the past twenty-one years studying medicine and traveled the world to acquire the needed materials. In that cabinet is everything Jack has ever needed. He's not mad because of the sun as most believe. He's odd and confusing and insane because he's had every fever and every disease with fever at least once. He has coin in his skull to keep him alive. There is still a bullet inside of him that would cause his death if removed. I've never been more afraid of anything in my life. I don't know how to take care of Jack."

"Yes you do. You've known what do because Jack was injured or ill. Now that he's himself you aren't sure what is going to happen," said Will. Teague nodded. "I would tell Jack everything and if he doesn't believe you, bring him here. Jack's life is fading because you won't tell him that he's everything to you. He's frightened to be here because of you. You are his greatest fear. The only thing he's ever wanted is to be held and loved by his father. Now I understand that he very well may be the most cared for soul in this world. He doesn't know it. He deserved to know when he was seven."

"How do I tell him after the pain I've caused him?" asked Teague, his eyes beginning to moisten with tears.

"You pull him into your arms tell him you love him and not let your arms from him until you've told him everything you just told me and what I don't know."

"It sounds so simple," noted Teague.

"If you really want it, it will be simple," said Will. "Send me a message of Jack's condition in a few days. A message in a bottle is all that is required."

He walked out of the room.

Teague hesitated a moment. He walked from the room. Will was down neither of the halls. He rushed through the fortress and to the dock where there was nothing. Out on the sky for the faintest of moments was green. He sighed and slumped, knowing he was left alone with Jack.

Breathing deeply, he entered Jack's room.

Jack was gently tucked among his blankets. The fading sun and orange glow of the sky gave him a healthy glow. His head was free from his bandana and bandages exposing a black and blue bruise next to his right eye. Both of his eyes were red and the swelling beginning to subside.

Standing beside Jack, looking down upon him, Teague saw the innocence his son possessed. He was always so helpless and sickly looking. Thinking about Will's words, he found himself sitting beside Jack on the bed.

Reaching toward Jack, his fingers trembled. He pulled back several times fearing Jack would wake. He did not know why he was consumed by fear. This was merely his sleeping son. He had no need to fear his son.

Finally, he managed to bring his fingertips to Jack's forehead then eventually caressed Jack's cheek with the back of his fingers.

Slumping, he was comforted suddenly. Jack's head moving toward his fingers caused a small smile to come upon his face. Just as quickly as the smile came, it vanished.

Jack. Jack was the reason he was afraid. All these years he was afraid of Jack. Everything came together in his mind. He rejected Jack because he was afraid of Jack's mind. He was afraid to tell his son everything because he was afraid of what Jack was. Jack was afraid of never being loved.

Tears came to Teague's eyes.

"I'm afraid you won't want me to be your father. I'm afraid you won't love me back," he told his sleeping son.

A single tear fell from his eye. After all this time, he pushed Jack away because he was simply afraid Jack wouldn't love him and all he wished for his son was for Jack to live a better life than he had lived his own. His simple desire caused himself and his son more pain than the human soul should know in a lifetime.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Warm and comfortable more than he had been for several months, Jack remained laying in the sunlight on his bed. His eyes were shut. The moment was too precious to wake and spoil. Before he himself spoiled it, his heart suddenly moved from his chest to his arm causing him to open his eyes. He whimpered and whined as he pushed himself halfway up. Slight pressure was applied on his arm. He yelped then whined to himself.

"Will, me arm still hurts. Do something," he said. No words were spoken to him. He turned his head to look around the room. "Now where did he disappear to? If he left me here I'm going to kill him. Oh, I remembered. I can't kill him. He's already dead. That's disappointing."

Seeing that his left arm was in a very pretty red sling as he called it, he sat up and was more cautious. He felt sick to his stomach as his world suddenly began spinning again. Opening his eyes, he saw nothing. Knowing he was blinking and seeing no light, his heart began rapidly beating. He searched for anything to grab onto, clutching onto the blanket until his eyesight returned. Frightened because of what happened he swallowed hard and remained breathing deeply in bed.

"This is just going to be wonderful," he said to himself, highly sarcastic like. "I'm hungry."

Having a need to respond to his hunger, he flipped the blankets from himself. Immediately, his loose hair fell in his face. He yelped and ran to the mirror in his room.

"Why?" was his only question as he stared at just himself. "I don't want to be Jonathan Teague. I hate looking like this."

His lips formed into a pout as he searched the room for his beads and wonderful sashes. They were lying on the couch in the sun. Small, velvet pouches rested on his sashes. Curious, he opened one. The beads on the left side of his hair spilled into his palm. Every single article of clothing was neatly folded on the couch. He smiled seeing a note in Will's hand.

_Jack, yes, I left you and I know you know why. I didn't have much of a choice. Don't mumble and groan because I know you'll do that before you read this. You're going to be fine. Don't worry. You need this time with your father. He needs to tell you everything and he'll do so when he feels the time is right. He's not who you think he is. Honestly, he's not who I thought he was as well. He's a good man who has done terrible things to you, which he doesn't know how to explain. Give him a chance. Father and I told him to talk to you. You need to listen to him when he wants to talk. I will warn you this will be more difficult for him than you so please, please Jack, listen to him when he wants to talk. Don't go running off to Tortuga or the nearest island either. You're head is unstable from the concussion. You need to rest and find something to do in the Cove. Don't try doing anything with your arm either. I don't want to receive a message of request to join the crew or have to speak with you while attending my duty. Please, give your father a chance. If I hear word of the _Pearl_ I'll send word. Expect a message in a bottle within the next week or two, as I will be curious to know your condition. Bear with what's been given to you. You're not the only soul living with what's been handed to you unfairly. Remember that._

_Will, Captain of the _Flying Dutchman_._

"Well, that's comforting," noted Jack. Fear struck his eyes as he looked out the window seeing one sole ship docked: _Star of Madagascar._ "I'm stuck here with him. He left me alone with my father who hates me. I'm stuck in Shipwreck Cove with the person who wants me dead. Perfect. How can life get any worse? I've already lost me _Pearl_ twice. Me arm is broken and me head hurts. I can't leave here. I'm left here with Davy Jones and Will leaves me just to take care of people he doesn't even know." A growl came from his stomach. "And I'm hungry."

He pouted, leaning against the window frame. Hungry before, he knew he was to relieve that hunger. The last time he ate was two days ago literally and he was starving. He was too thin already and just wanted to eat real food again. Good food was a treat these days as it was difficult to acquire at sea.

Though he wanted to kill his pounding head and regretted assisting Will in the choice of captain, he made his way to the kitchen, which already smelled of soup. Entering, he inhaled to the point of elevating on his toes.

"Wot is that?" he asked, his voice soft and dreamy.

"Cajun stew," replied George.

"I want some," Jack told him as he took one of the bowls from the cabinet.

"Shouldn't you be in bed still?" asked Daryl.

"I'm hungry and _he's_ certainly not going to bring me anything," said Jack. He leaned closer to George. "Where is he anyway?"

"He is in his study doing usual paperwork. There was a battle after all and he must record it as well as organize reports from each of the Lords," said George.

"Well, I haven't done mine yet and I'm not going to until I'm told," said Jack as he ladled stew from the pot.

"You know he will," said Daryl.

Jack shook his head. "No he won't. He'll ask one of you two." He pointed at the two of them with the ladle spoon. "He never talks to me. I'm impressed I'm still here and not lying on a beach in the middle of nowhere or between bundles of sacks in Tortuga as I should be."

"The two Turners told him to keep you here. Apparently you took a nasty fall to your head," said George.

"Aye," said Jack as he felt the stitches pull as well as seeing the bruise without truly seeing it. "Trust me mates. I know I took a nasty fall to me head and it wasn't me. I thank Calypso." He glared to the sea. "If it wasn't for you I would be well on my way to Aqua de Vida and the _Pearl_."

"Wait a minute, stop, hold everything!" cried George. He pointed at Jack. "You lost the _Pearl_ again?"

Jack lips pursed as he pouted. He turned away, toward the soup. His head barely nodded. "Aye."

"Does your father know?" asked George.

"Aye," whispered Jack.

"I bet he wasn't too happy to hear you lost the ship again," noted George.

"Who this time? And don't tell me it was Barbossa again," wondered Daryl.

"Okay," said Jack as he walked from the room.

"You didn't answer my question Sparrow," Daryl hollered, leaning his head out the doorway.

"You told him not to tell you it was Barbossa again and because he didn't respond that could only mean it was Barbossa," said George.

Both of their faces went sour.

"Don't think Teague likes that too much?" noted Daryl.

"I heard them arguing again. He didn't," said George.

"Why can't they just get along and move on from years ago. I don't even know how many years it's been. I can't even count that high," said Daryl, flailing his hands in the air.

"Who can?" wondered George, stirring the stew again.

Daryl sniffed the air. He brought a bowl forward. "Gimmie some of that. You're cooking smells good for once."

George dipped the ladle in only to pour the spoon over Daryl's head.

Alone, Jack sat on the dock eating his stew, looking toward where his ship should have been. He didn't want to, but thoughts of what Barbossa was going to do to his _Black Pearl_ ran around in his head playing chase and beginning new games of it.

"Why is it always me?" he asked himself. "I always have the bad luck with everything."

"Not quite Jackie."

Jack groaned as he looked to his knees. It wasn't the first time his two companions sat on his knees staring at him. They usually came about when he was alone.

"Go away. I don't want to talk to you two right now. All you do is make everything worse," he told him.

"Who was it that solved the riddle? Up is down. Sundown and rise up," noted one of the little Jacks.

The other one pointed to himself. "It was me who told you of the half barrel hinges."

Jack pointed at himself. "And it is always me who looses his mind. Why can't you two just go back to World's End where you came from?"

"That's not fun now is it?" asked a little Jack as he climbed up Jack's sleeve to sit on his shoulder. He looked at the stew. "Any good?"

"Not really, but it's hot," said Jack, his face twisting in disgust. "What should I do about _him_?" Both little Jacks shrugged. "He is me father after all, but I hate him."

"And he hates you so it all equals out," said a little Jack.

"Well, if I was you," began the Jack still sitting on his leg. "I would take the _Star_ and make way for Tortuga where you can find a crew."

"Then you can get us Aqua de Vida and kill Hector once and for all," the other one said.

"And have him come back to life?" asked Jack. "I'm not doing that again. He can't just stay dead."

"And we can?" asked the Jack on his shoulder. Jack looked at him. "You need to fix your eyes and put the beads back in."

"Please. It is truly unruly not seeing you," agreed the other Jack.

Jack looked at both of them. "I don't care. I'll do it when I want to. That's not my first priority."

"And wot is?" asked the Jack on his leg, folding his arms.

"To last a week in the same place as my father without being killed or becoming captive to him and being left on an island in the middle of no where," replied Jack.

The two little Jack's looked at each other.

"That is a good priority."

"Why didn't we think of that?"

"He's coming!" a little Jack whispered.

The other hid behind one of Jack's dreadlocks. "Hide."

Jack looked at the two of them. "Easy for you to say."

"Who the devil are you talking to?" asked Teague.

Jack looked around him. "Meself."

Teague rolled his eyes. "You never were sane," he noted.

"Wot?" asked Jack, returning to his stew.

"I need you to complete your review of the Caribbean as you are Lord. Include everything in the past year," said Teague.

"Don't expect it anytime soon," said Jack. "That's a lot to record."

"You have five days to complete it," said Teague.

"And if I don't want to?" asked Jack. He felt his father's eyes narrow in a glare as loud footsteps moved to him. He cowered down. "I'll get it to you as soon as I can."

"You better," said Teague.

"That was close," the Jack on his shoulder whispered, peering from the dreadlock.

"Aye," the other noted, climbing back on Jack's leg.

"It's not over yet," said Jack.

"Jack," Teague's voice called.

"Wot?" asked Jack, turning his head to look at him.

Teague looked down then at him. "You should be resting."

"Why do you care?" asked Jack.

Teague turned. "Don't over do it," he told him as he walked back inside.

All three Jack's looked at each other in wonder.

"Did he just tell you to be careful?" asked the Jack on his shoulder.

"He did," noted the other Jack.

Jack looked where his father just stood, his eyes narrowing in wonder.

The two little Jacks looked at each other.

That never happened before

* * *

Seeing as he was already out of his clothes, Jack decided it was now or never when he washed his beloved sashes and tunics. He never understood how annoying a sling was until now. He felt pity on those who were forced to need one. It was only moment when he removed his arm from the sling, using it a bit. The pressure and soreness of his arm just by moving it in the water caused enough pain. Respecting the use of the sling much more now, he admired the color of the red even more.

"Eww," he noted as he looked at the water in the basin from washing his tunic alone. "I didn't think I was that dirty." He picked up his breeches. "I don't want to know how dirty this is."

Waiting a bit on that, he soaked his red bandana in its own bowl and sashes in another. Afterward, his coat was submerged underwater.

"All right, nothing can be dirtier than this," he noted, looking at the black water. "At least I'll look more glorious when the _Pearl_ sees me again." He slumped as he watched his coat drip. "If she ever sees me again."

With nothing else to do, he washed the rest of his clothes and hung them to dry around the room from the hull of the ship. So he wouldn't hurt himself even more, he placed old sheets under the dripping objects. Even his boots were scrubbed and soaked as well as his hat and belts. He cleaned and polished his pistol as well as he could with a broken arm. Somehow, he managed to polish and sharpen his sword. Once he had the idea to set the hilt between his legs, it wasn't that bad. It just took an hour to figure that out.

Now hungry for dinner, he went to the kitchen, stole a plate of food and made for his small library where he remained for quite some time.

Poking his head in the dinning room, Teague looked at the faces. His own face twisted into a puzzled expression.

"What?" asked Martín.

"Have any of you seen Jack? I can't find him," said Teague.

"He got food near five hours ago and said he wanted to read," replied Les Char.

"He's still up," said Teague. "I'm going to kill him."

He walked from the room. First, he poked his head in the library. Seeing Jack wasn't there, he went to Jack's private collection of books and other things relating to books. The door was not lit by candlelight.

"Reading?" Teague asked himself sarcastically. "Jack's not reading. Where the bloody hell is that boy?"

Just as he turned, whimpering and deep breaths of pain came faintly from the door. Turning, he pressed his ear against the door. Jack was in there. Curious, he opened the door. The room was lit by just moonlight. On the couch was movement. He quietly stepped closer.

Jack was lying on his back on the couch; his eyes squeezed shut and hands squeezing the cushion. His body tensed in pain as he whimpered, tears slowly falling from the side of his eyes.

"Jack," whispered Teague, kneeling beside him. He brushed loose hair from Jack's face.

Jack looked at him. He gagged and spit up a bit on the floor. He moaned and whimpered more. "Head," he breathed.

Knowing what he meant, Teague nodded. "I'll be right back," he whispered barely loud enough for he himself to hear.

Edward Teague returned to his son with several items resting on a pillow. First of all, he lit a single candle beside the couch opposite side of Jack then set a thick, fluffy pillow under Jack's head. He covered his son with a light blanket. Not saying a word, a bottle was opened and the contents gently caressed between the stitches on Jack's head. He set a cool rag against his son's head.

Just being a father to his son in time of need, Teague gently caressed his son's head while keeping a cool rag across his boy's forehead. Long after Jack fell into an uneasy sleep, he remained at his side keeping the cool rag across his forehead. He stared at Jack, thoughts of the past and how he would tell his son his feelings chased around his mind. Every thought consuming him revolved around Jack in one form or another. He didn't know what to do about him anymore. More than anything in the world he wanted to tell him he loved him since birth and continued to love him all those times he abandoned him. As he told Will and Bill, why would Jack have any reason to believe him?

Feeling better compared to the night before, Jack stretched on the couch. He stretched his arms above his head with a yawn.

"Well, that was a longer nap than even I wanted. A night too long," he noted. "Even more curious are these papers on the table. What are these?"

He looked at them. The handwriting was in his father's hand.

_Don't forget to do the records. You are Lord of the Caribbean. I want them in no more than five days._

Jack groaned as he flopped back into the couch, knowing it was going to take the five days requested to finish these records.

"Why do all the battles have to be in the Caribbean? I'm the only one who has to do all this work. Thinking is difficult enough. Remembering is even worse," he noted. He knew his mind was gazing towards the sea before his eyes saw it. His voice was quiet like a whisper or small promise. "I don't want to remember any of it."

"You still in here Jack?"

"Wot?" Jack whined.

Les Char walked in with a shrug. "I just wanted to know if ye still lingered in here alive."

"Why would I not be alive? I'm captain Jack Sparrow," noted Jack as he stood, gathering the note and crumpling it behind his back. "I just came in here to grab a book."

"I was just wondering. We haven't seen ye in a while," said Les Char.

"And you won't. I have to complete records from the Caribbean of the past year and I don't even know what I'm supposed to write down," said Jack.

"You were there the entire time. You know what to write down," said Les Char.

Jack swallowed as his eyes turned away. "It's the remembering and not missing a detail part I don't know how to write down."

Les Char glanced around the room thinking. "Oh, you don't know how to write how the story ended."

Jack nodded. "How am I supposed to write that?"

"I don't know. I don't even know what happened," admitted Les Char.

"How can you not know?" asked Jack. "Everybody knows."

"I know what happened I just don't know how it happened," said Les Char.

"Jones stabbed Will for no reason and I made him captain so he could still live," said Jack. "Even half dead he's still half alive."

"Don't be so hard on yerself," Les Char told him.

"You're not the one who dragged your best friend into all this and ended up by cutting out his heart to save him," noted Jack.

"But you didn't cut out his heart," said Les Char.

Jack rolled his eyes as he walked from the room and into his father. He flinched and jumped back. "I'm going to my room right now to start the records. I'll try to finish them as soon as I can," he told him before breaking off into a run down the hall.

Teague sighed. "How am I supposed to talk to him if he continues running away from me?"

"I dunno know. But if I's was Jack I'd run too," admitted Les Char. He looked at Teague. "As an example…"

Teague watched him run down the hall faster than Jack had. This was going to be more difficult than he thought it was. How was he supposed to get Jack near him if Jack avoided him day and night?

Late night, Edward Teague lay in bed, unable to sleep. His son was on his mind again. He wanted to tell Jack everything. He needed to tell Jack everything. Jack avoided him and it was impossible to be seen with Jack. He lost control over Jack from habit and his fear returning. Needing help more than he thought he would, he flipped the blanket from the bed, pulled his robe over his body, lit a candle and brought out paper and a pen.

_Bill, I need your help. Tell me what to do with Jack. I want to tell him everything, but I don't know how. I admit it, I am a coward. I'm a bloody coward. I don't even have the courage to talk to my son. Pathetic isn't it? The guilt kills me more each day and I'm too cowardly to confront Jack. Tell me, what do I do? You know these things; you're the philosopher of all. Help me please. And for Will's curiosity, Jack is out of bed and reading. His head causes him pain every so often. Only once has he been unable to do anything because of the pain. But please tell me what to do. I'm desperate and ready to tell him. I just don't know how I can get Jack to talk to me anymore. If you don't think of something I'm going to give up because I can't do it and Jack will be fine on his own. He always has been. I don't want it that- Bill, just tell me what to do._

Teague rolled the letter and slid it into an empty bottle. He threw the bottle out the window, watching it splash as it hit the water.

"And now I wait as usual," he noted to himself.

Just as Teague finally found sleep, Jack awoke with fear on his mind. Afraid for his life, he began working on the Caribbean report, sure not to miss any detail. The last time he did that he nearly lost his hand. Time flew past. It was his stomach what brought him out of his fearful state.

Having sat there for the duration of the morning, he stood and stretched on his tiptoes, bringing his right arm above his head. He arched his back as he looked toward the sun. A sudden rush of blood coming to his head, he swayed back and forth.

"That's not good," he noted to himself. "The world is spinning without a single drop of rum inside me. Not a drop of rum." He sighed to himself. "Well, we'll just have to change that now won't we?"

He hummed as he walked down the halls to the rum, which was beautifully stocked as usual. Curious as always, he reviewed the teas and wines in the room as well. Drinking his bottle, he walked around the room. There was the occasional new wine he had to test for his own pleasures. The teas were, like always, avoided more than he avoided London. He had no liking for tea and he probably never would.

Satisfied, he brought a new bottle of rum as well as a few sandwiches to his private study to munch on throughout the day as well as for dinner that night unless the smell of something delicious filled the air.

To his delight, Louie came in, tail wagging and keys mouth for a few hours as he napped on his pillows. Jack couldn't resist the urge to play fetch with the dog and give him a good scratch and belly rub. After all, Louie did have to follow Teague wherever he went.

Now bored, Jack yawned. He looked at the stack of papers and mess around the desk. "Well, I have gotten to me death today and that's good enough. I'll finish tomorrow. I don't want to do this anymore and I don't have to."

He gently placed the papers in the drawer beside the desk. Cleaning a bit, the rest the papers were piled neatly and he brushed his fingers across the desk.

Longing for his beloved _Black Pearl_, he returned to his bedroom where his compass was still beside his sashes and coat. He flipped it open to watch it point.

A huge sigh of disgust coming over him, he threw the compass on the couch not having the slightest care if it broke or not. He threw his arm in the air, shouting at himself and his compass.

"I can't believe it. Here I go again. I can't even find a heading for me own ship. Why would I not want the _Pearl_ most? Wot do I want more than me own ship? Apparently I don't have one thing I want. Either that or I have the black spot and I don't know what I want again."

He whipped his right palm up to observe it closely. No black spot.

"You know what you want."

"You don't know what you want more."

Jack shook his head. He smacked his ears. "Go away. I don't want to talk to you two right now."

"You need to talk to someone."

Jack looked at his hair. "No I don't. I'm going for a walk so leave me alone. I need to think."

"Think about what you want most Jackie."

"What you want is your main priority."

"That's helpful," noted Jack in a sarcastic tone. "I don't know what my priorities are."

"Think about that on your little walk."

"Go away," Jack told the air as he slipped his feet into his boots.

As he wanted to do, he walked around the Cove then onto the docks, staring at every little thing. His mind was lost to all other sounds but the voices in his head. He needed to shuffle his priorities. If he knew what his priorities were then his compass would work again. Somehow, no matter how thorough he made the attempt to convince himself, his main priority was not bringing the _Pearl_ back into his hands. He wanted something else first. He knew what he wanted most of all, but knew he would never have it. Why would his father love him and care for him and hold him and tell him he's always loved him?

Jack lay on his back staring at the stars in the cool air. His feet took him to the one place he somehow found comfort: the _Star of Madagascar_. He knew it would be his deathbed should Teague see him on the ship but no lights from Teague's area was lit.

Around him pulleys creaked, the small breeze blew the ropes, the ship was not solid on the water, everything was belonging to him. The sky was bright with the stars. Polaris was as constant and bright as usual.

Long ago he and his mother lied on the deck in the middle of the night just the two of them talking about the constellations and telling the stories of how they came to be. He knew every one of the Celtic stories. He loved the stories his mother told of their existence. Together they made the best stories. He was barely a child old enough to remember anything, but he remembered the stories. He never had the memory of what his mother looked like, how she behaved, what she wore, her smile; he didn't remember anything about her. All he remembered was the stories they told of the stars and simply laying beside her wrapped in a blanket during the middle of the night.

Jack looked beside him. He touched the wood on the deck, always remembering his mother beside him. She was nowhere now. He set his arm behind his head again. His eyes always returned to Polaris. It was the one constant light and reason for life in his life. Polaris never changed. Polaris was hardly Polaris in his mind. That star was renamed for him when he was seven. Thinking deeper into that moment, his eyes continued to gaze at the light as images of the past were drawn between them.

_"Da? Daddy," Jack softly moaned as he whimpered._

_"Shh, I'm here Jackie. You'll be fine," whispered Teague as he dabbed his son's face with a cool rag._

_Jack whimpered as he shivered and reached to pull his blankets over his freezing body._

_Teague stopped him by taking his hands. "You're burning Jack. You can't be any warmer."_

_"I'm cold," Jack told him._

_"I know. You'll be fine soon," whispered Teague._

_He kissed his son's forehead then took him in his arms to hold him. Feeling Jack shiver, tears came to his eyes. His little seven year old was burning and yet, he couldn't stay warm. Surrendering, to his son, he wrapped his coat around Jack._

_"I'm not going to lose you. I'm not going to let you die," he promised._

_The door suddenly whipped open. _

_"What?" asked Teague, his voice trembling, seeing the expression._

_"It's Aisling. There's not much time."_

_Teague held onto his son tighter. He pushed Jack away to look into his eyes. "Do you want to see mum?" Jack nodded weakly. "Okay, let's do that."_

_He wrapped a thin blanket around Jack, and let him rest against him as he rose to his feet. Something drew his gaze toward the horizon. A blood red sun was setting. Never once had he believed in the superstitious nonsense of the sea. Even now he refused to believe the bloody sun was a sign of death. He was not going to lose his wife or son from influenza. They were going to live. They just needed to rest. _

_Jack was carried out his room to the room beside his._

_Teague hesitated to walk in, fearing what was to come. Feeling Jack burn and cough in his arms, he knew he had to set him down. Drawing a deep breath with his eyes shut, he entered the room._

_"Mum," Jack whispered as he crawled into his mother's arms and nuzzled her chest with his cheek before settling his torso on top of her._

_"My Jack," whispered Aisling, her voice weak and tired. She kissed her son's head. "You're so warm."_

_"I'm cold and it hurts," said Jack._

_"What hurts most?" asked Aisling._

_"Everything," whimpered Jack._

_Aisling, held onto her son tighter. "I know. I too."_

_"I don't want you to hurt," Jack said._

_Aisling smiled. She turned to face Jack's face. She brushed his sweaty hair from his face. "Don't worry Jack. I won't hurt soon." Her eyes turned to Teague. "It'll be over soon."_

_Teague slowly brought his palm to his mouth as he collapsed on the bed beside her. Choking on his tears, he shook his head._

_"Please, don't leave me," he pleaded, brushing her hair with his hand._

_"I can't. I'm dying Edward. I'm dying," whispered Aisling, her voice fading as her eyes fell shut. "It won't be long."_

_"And Jack? He's been with influenza for weeks. Perhaps it will merely linger with you as it is him," said Teague, hope in his eyes._

_Aisling shook her head. Her breaths were becoming gasps requiring more effort to take and causing only pain. She coughed roughly._

_Teague shook his head. He took her hand. "You'll be fine. You'll live."_

_"You have to take care of Jack," whispered Aisling._

_"You'll help me," Teague told her._

_"I'll look after him, but you have to take of him," whispered Aisling._

_"See, you'll be fine. You'll look after Jack as well," Teague told her._

_"I'll look after him in another form," whispered Aisling. _

_"You can't die. I won't let it have you," Teague told her._

_"Edward, look at me," whispered Aisling. Teague shook his head as he looked away. "Look at me."_

_Teague looked into her warm, chocolate eyes. Her dark chocolate hair still brought signs of wave against the sweat. Her face was soft and gentle and slender. The once bronze color of her skin was white, pale, cold. Her strong eyes were dull and dulled more by the passing moment. He grabbed her hand tighter as he leaned over her more to memorize her face. Their eyes locked._

_"This is what you wanted isn't it? To look upon you. To memorize you," he asked._

_She nodded. "Jack."_

_"Mummy," whispered Jack. "I'm so tired."_

_"Me too," whispered Aisling._

_Teague took Jack in his arms so he could look at his mother for what could possibly be the final time._

_"You're so beautiful," whispered Aisling._

_Jack weakly smiled. "I know."_

_"We never named one star," noted Aisling._

_Jack looked at her then thought. He shook his head in confusion._

_Aisling, took her wedding ring from her finger. Her trembling hand set the ring in Jack's palm. "I won't need it. Polaris is my wedding ring. It's constant, never moving or changing. My love for you and your father is constant, never changing or moving. When you look into Polaris, you'll look at me. I'll become Polaris. I'll become your dreams. I'll be in the stars, looking after you."_

_Jack looked at her oddly. "But, you'll look after me here."_

_"No, I'll look after you from the sky," whispered Aisling. She looked at Teague. "Take care of him. Please."  
_

_"Aisling, don't," pleaded Teague. He stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers. "I love you."_

_"I love you Edward. I love you Jack," whispered Aisling._

_"I love you mummy," said Jack._

_"Promise me you'll grow up and be a good boy," whispered Aisling._

_"Promise," said Jack._

_He coughed against his father. A cold shiver coming across him, he curled against Teague's chest._

_Teague looked at Aisling. "I can't do this alone."_

_"You'll learn," whispered Aisling, her voice soft and breaths slowing._

_"Stay with me," whispered Teague. "Please. You have to stay with me. I love you."_

_He kissed her forehead and face before settling his lips on her forehead. Tears rolled from his face onto hers._

_"Jack," whispered Aisling._

_Jack looked at his mother's tired eyes. _

_Teague set Jack against his mother to allow her to hold him. He lay beside her on the bed, staring into her eyes._

_Jack was content between his parents, his head resting against his mother's chest._

_Aisling stared at Jack, tears pouring from her eyes. She weakly coughed._

_"Please," Teague pleaded._

_"Live," whispered Aisling._

_Teague nodded. He brushed her hair. Even after her eyes shut. _

_Their hands were held tightly together, never letting go._

_He gazed at her face, the blood red sun casting a red glow upon her, giving warmth._

_A smile widened across her face as she sighed heavily._

_Teague rubbed her cheek with the back of his hand._

_"Daddy," whispered Jack._

_"Jackie," said Teague._

_Jack looked at his father, a look of confusion and wonder across his face. "Daddy, I can't hear mummy's heart."_

"JACK!"

Jack snapped his eyes open. He sat up. Tears fell from his eyes. He, without feeling it with his hands, felt moisture upon his face.

"Jackie what is it?" wondered Teague, his voice unusually calm.

Jack looked around. It was morning. He fell asleep on his father's ship. Teague was going to kill him. He got a black eye last time.

"Jackie," Teague demanded, reaching his hand out.

Fear and natural instinct, Jack stumbled to his feet. He sprinted from the ship then across the dock out of sight.

Teague looked at him. He sighed heavily. "Whenever I want to talk you always run. You've always been that way I suppose," he noted to himself. "Fight to run away. Is it fight to stay alive? Or has it just always been run to stay alive?" He looked toward the stars, toward Polaris. "I'm sorry Aisling. I'm trying. I've done wrong for a reason that would have been right had Jack not wanted his father as much as he longed for me. I don't know what to do anymore. Don't leave me alone to heal Jack. What am I saying? It's my fault Jack is like this. I did it to him. You shouldn't have to do anything more than watch me become a father. I never was a father to him. Thirty six years after his birth I want to give it a try." He looked at the sea. "Though I would appreciate a response to my letter."

Seeing as he was already there, Edward Teague remained on the _Star_ through the night thinking of things of Jack and himself. He knew what he did wrong and was slowly loosing courage to tell Jack everything. How? It was his only question. How could one tell his son the truth after nearly killing him several times for twenty-nine years?

Somehow, he hoped, Jack would come back on the ship before morning and he would find him out there. When he did walk on deck in the morning, Jack was nowhere. It was simply a bare deck with raised sails. He sighed, but wasn't all that disappointed. He was himself. Jack was Jack. Both had terrible pasts and a relationship never existed between the two of them. Everything was wrong and the beginning of it was too far lost amid everything to be remembered.

He walked on deck inspecting the condition of his ship and if all was in order. Contemplating his actions of the past, he walked to the rail where he leaned his arms on it. Looking to the rock cliffs, he thought and twiddled his fingers. Thinking deeper about his son's life, his eyes fell toward the water. Jack was much like waves, always coming and going, appearing and disappearing, breathing and dying, bumping against the ship and never leaving bringing a very annoying rhythm. Shaking his head, he looked at the bottle in curiosity. Only one person knew about the meaning to a message in a bottle.

"Finally," he noted to himself as he lifted the bottle from the water with the bucket.

Not having a doubt about who this letter was from, he smashed the bottle over the water and unrolled the letter. First of all it was from two different hands. One was an elegant, neat script; the other was bolder and not as neat but still readable. On deck, he stood at the rail trying to decipher the message given to him.

Edward

You are not a coward. **Yes you are. You were the one who abandoned Jack in London.** Don't listen to him. You are not a coward. The solution isn't as difficult as you are making it out to be. **I told you so. Just tell Jack the truth. You love him. Stop killing him and yourself and tell him already.**

I know it will be difficult to confront Jack if he's always running off. I know. What you need to do is **you need to chain him to the mast and tell him everything. That way he won't go anywhere and you will have to free him sometime so you won't leave either. How does that sound?** Do not do that. Jack will hate you more if you do that. **It kept him in one place before so do it again, just don't kiss him to chain him.** Eddy, excuse Will. He's being himself. If you are truly ready to tell him everything you need to tell him before your courage sails away.

**You shouldn't even be afraid to tell Jack you love him. How can you be afraid? I've known Jack long enough to know if his curiosity is touched he will search for answers and not rest until he's found them. Jack wants you. He thinks you don't want him, which is why he's avoiding you.** So get him near you. **Otherwise known as chain him to the mast.** Don't do that.

I'm sorry about this but I was curious. I saw the journals about Jack. I read them. Show him those. You began when he was born and continued to the very night after I brought him to you with malaria. Let him read the journals. It comes from your heart. **Which is a place he's never been.** If you can't tell him face to face tell him through your heart. It may be more beneficial for you to allow him to read the journals. As my son so firmly suggested, let Jack become curious. He will come to you for answers. **Involve stars in some form. I know Jack likes stars. **Give him the journals in an opportune place and time. I trust you to know when that time is. He is your son.

**He wants his father back. He's proved himself on several occasions. If you ever met who Jack is and what he became, he's wonderful and caring and will help accomplish tasks. He doesn't break promises. He's never broken a promise he's made to me.** Let him come to you. He's ready. He's trying to tell you he's been ready to be your son. You're ready to be his father. Let him come to you. Show him you're ready. Let him know you are there and you want to talk. He must know you want to talk before. **Use the journals, which you need to send to me because I want to know a bit more about Jack.**

Eddy, simply give him the journals and let him come to you. He has tried to come to you his entire life. He wants his father. Let him have his father. You love Jack. You were always telling me you owed me your life for saving him several times. I don't want your life. You can repay me by bringing Jack into the world. I simply want Jack to know everything. He deserves it. **If you do chain him to the mast, only chain his right arm. I don't know if his left arm will have recovered enough.** If he doesn't want to talk to you after reading the journals then do Will's idea or continue to abandon him. It's your choice alone. Perhaps our advice **or words of just do it already **will have given you the **unnecessary** courage you need. **For the record, he is not the philosopher of all. He's merely made one too many mistakes in his life.**

Mistakes are the best teacher, mistakes and determination. You're ready; I know you are. Jack will come to you when he's ready to talk, but you must make the first move. **And Jack is not fine on his own so don't abandon him or I will send you to the Locker.** He's serious about that so I would suggest to not doing said action. Give him the journals at an opportune time and watch him come to you for answers. **Send us a reply so we know how Jack took it. Tell him I said hello as well.** Tell him for both of us.

Bill **and Captain Will** Turner

(By the way, he refuses to respond if not called "Captain". I blame Jack for that one.)

Edward Teague read the letter several more times. He never read something so confusing, yet so sensible as that.

"The journals," he sighed to himself as he smacked his palm against his forehead. "Why didn't I think of that before? All that remains is how."

He raised his eyebrows. How? That seemed to be the question he asked himself for years. The answer became "how". He simply didn't know what to do to get his answer.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Quite a bit frightened, Jack slowly entered his father's private study. He knocked on the door several times and no answer. He hesitated for minutes about whether to set the records down yet. As was requested, the records of the Caribbean were wanted five days later. It was five days later and the report was not completed. He sat for three days attempting to pass the end of parlay. Each time he wrote another word, visions and memories to strong to pass came through his eyes. Memories not wanted to be seen were merely enhance because of his thought.

Hearing the door to the outside room click shut, he gasped as his eyes widened. His mind scrambling for ideas, he saw a large cabinet against the wall. The report was dropped on the table as he sprinted for the cabinet. He quickly shut the doors. His breathing heavy and loud because of fear, he clamped his hand over his mouth to silence it. Afraid for his life, he squeezed his eyes shut as Teague entered the room.

Teague looked on the table. "I was wondering when that son of mine was going to deliver these."

He sat on the chair with the glass of red wine in his hand, put his feet on the chair beside him and began reading.

Jack slowly slumped to the bottom of the cabinet, his eye never leaving the scene through the crack between the doors. He watched his father drink wine and read his report, waiting for him to leave.

Hours passed. Jack was still sitting in the bottom of the cabinet watching his father read the report. His eyes widened as the last page was all that remained in Teague's hand.

Teague brought his glass of wine to his mouth as he read the final page relieved he was done. The glass was set on the table as he sat up. His eyes narrowed in confusion.

"I'm sorry, but I couldn't do any more. Give me a little longer," he noted to himself. "Couldn't do it. Couldn't do what?" He looked at the page before the final one. Immediately after, he nodded his head in understanding. "Who could Jackie? Who could?"

Standing, he took a piece of paper from his coat pocket. Reading it again, he stood by the window. Oddly enough, he began talking to himself.

"Give him the journals. How am I supposed to do that you two? Stars, I know he likes stars. Stars and the journals. Let him find the journals at the observatory. He must go up there once. There has been no rain in the Caribbean for some time so I would expect a bloody rainfall when I set the books there. Oh aye, wouldn't that be wonderful? Jackie, I'm sorry, you can't read them because I was the coward who set them out before a rainstorm so you would find them instead of you having them right away. Why am I so afraid to talk to you? What am I afraid of? Actually I know that answer. I'm afraid you won't want me to be your father. That's what I'm afraid of and you're afraid I don't want you to be my son. Well boy, I know how you feel. I should just get Will over here to chain me to the mast rather than you. I do like that idea however. You would listen to me. Why is this so difficult? He has no idea. Well, he probably does. I don't think he ever imagined he would see his boy again so he's probably gone through what I have to. He didn't nearly kill his son though. He was just thrown from his life. Ah, no wonder he knows what to do. He was thrown from Will's life as I did to Jack and wanted him back as I want Jack back. We both are afraid love won't be accepted. So he does know. I should trust him after all. I should have set those journals out days ago. A few days shouldn't be too much more trouble. Jack's waited twenty-nine years. What're another few days? What am I going to say to him? I need more wine."

Out of his worry and anxiety, Teague walked from the room, dropping the letter on the table.

Jack's eyes fell to the paper on the table. He listened closely for the door to shut and a few minutes afterward. Curious, he slowly walked from the cabinet. The creaking of the door caused fear in his heart as well as walking to the table. If his father ever caught him in here alone without permission his head and every other limb would not see each other beyond the end of time. Holding his breath, as his heart was enough sound, he reached for the letter with trembling hands. At every creak, he whipped his head around believing it to be his father.

Soon, time and worry was lost from his mind as he was immersed in the letter. His eyes narrowed more and more in confusion. Eventually, he sat down to read it again. Each time read over, things in his mind fell apart as his perspective changed. Everything he knew about his life was suddenly open to anything.

"The truth?" he asked himself. He touched a small phrase with his fingertips. _Just tell Jack the truth. You love him._ "He loves me?"

"I find that quite to the contrary of everything he's done for us."

Jack looked at the Jack's on his shoulders. "I know. It doesn't make sense does it?"

"I don't know. It does."

"He does make a good point. Why are you still alive? You've been near him for over a week and you're still alive and near him."

"That makes no possible sense," Jack told them, looking out the window. "He hates me."

"He did cut you across the forehead with his ring."

"Not to mention shot you once."

"He wasn't trying to."

"Or was he?" Jack asked them.

"Wot's the letter say mate."

Jack held out the letter and read it for them. He looked at them.

The two Jacks looked at each other with their mouths open and eyes in wonder.

"Curious isn't it?" Jack asked.

"I don't get it."

"Neither do I."

"You should have heard him talking to himself," Jack noted.

Both the little ones looked at him waiting for his response.

Jack's eyes narrowed in wonder even more. His face twisted into confusion. "I don't know wot to think. He's afraid I won't love him. He wants me to read something I don't even know about."

"There's a lot of things you don't know about mate."

"And you do?" Jack asked him.

"Touché."

"He can't love me. He's done too much to hurt me to love him," Jack said.

"And if he did prove to you he loved you then what?"

"Why do you want to know?" asked Jack.

"What would you do?"

"Well Jonathan Teague, what would you do?"

Jack looked at them. His body slumped low. "I, for once, can honestly tell you mates I don't know wot I would do if ever, emphasis the _if_, he told me he loved me. That's all I've wanted, but I don't know if I'll ever accept it as true. Why would he love someone like me suddenly? He's not loved me for twenty-nine years. How can he know wot love is anymore?"

"And you know what love is?"

Jack looked at them. He waved his hand at them. "Leave me alone."

"Things do happen mate."

"You can't understand why but they do."

Jack shook his head. "Get out of me head. I don't want to think about it anymore. I did it to save his life."

"Save his life? You cursed him."

"He would have died," said Jack.

"Being half alive one his half dead."

"I don't care," Jack told them. He covered an ear as he ran from the room to his library. "Go away."

He sat on the couch, looking at the books around. Journals. What was in these so called journals anyway? And why did Will and Bill know what was going on? Why was he always the one who never knew anything? The stars, what did that have to do with anything?

"Jackie, he meant for you to hear it all."

"But can you believe it."

Jack covered his ears with a pillow.

"You know there are things he's not telling you."

"You don't remember half your life. Perhaps he does love you after all."

"Love you don't even know what love is."

"True, your apparent love killed the only friend you had."

"Had meaning he's dead."

"After all, he is heartless and half alive."

"Not to mention his wife of less than an hour is lost on an island wondering what she should do."

"Stay alive or kill herself to join Will?"

"Aye that is true."

"You know you condemned her too?"

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" Jack screamed, bolting to his feet to bat the air.

None of it was true. He saved Will. Will was cursed but he was alive too and he had his father. They were together. He shook his hand frantically as he spun and turned around the room. Stumbling on his feet, he fell back on the couch. Thoughts of confusion and wonder and memories of pain returning to his mind, he was unable to block them and merciless to their attacks. He squeezed his eyes shut using all strength inside him to resist allowing the thoughts to come to his head.

* * *

From the cabinet came the Pirate Code, but was needed to be removed for the purpose of what be behind them. Teague looked at the Code then his eyes fell on the black cloth behind the pillow where the ancient Code rested. The cloth was removed as he merely looked at five dark green, leather bound books. All five, one by one, were removed from the cabinet and placed on the floor. He took the top book in his hand. No print was upon the cover. Nothing but dark green dyed leather was upon it. He flipped open the cover to read the beginning few words. _October 27, I'm a father. Aisling and I are parents. I have a little boy, Jonathan Galvyn Teague. Undoubtedly, though it is a good Christian name, I'll hardly ever call him Jonathan. His name is Jack, my Jack, my little white Jack Sparrow._

"Whatever happened to that?" Teague asked himself softly.

He collected the leather bound books in his arms and brought them to the highest ship on the Cove. Jack was up here at least once during his times at the Cove. This was where he observed the stars as heavily as he did. Stars were part of his soul; they were the only connection he had to his mother.

In the hull of the ship were several devices used to observed the stars, several telescopes, different astronomical books and sky charts, blankets and coats to stay warm as well as clean cloths for washing the glass.

He glanced around the hull for the ideal place to set the books. It didn't matter if they were placed on the middle of the floor. Only three people knew the sole safe path to this point. One was hardly going to be in the world so he figured only two in the world knew: himself and Jack.

His eyes always falling upon the chest of telescopes, he knew that was where they belonged. Opening the chest, he saw one was already missing, which would work more to his advantage. One by one, he placed the books from the last to the first in there.

"Please, Jack, you have to read these," he whispered to the books as each one was slowly placed inside the chest.

The chest was shut then he turned away. Halfway through the room, he stopped; a sudden thought came over him. No, not all of them just yet. He dug through the pile of books to grab the last and final one, the one with only half its pages written upon.

Jack wasn't strong enough to read this one alone. He had to have Jack read this one in front of him. The rest were not going to make sense in his mind and this one was the one with the most feeling and heart. He wouldn't understand this any more than what he won't, because he wasn't going to understand the first few words in the first journal.

"He's not going to read these," he noted to himself as he placed them back into the chest. He sighed and chuckled to himself. "The one time I want him to be nosy he won't because he knows my handwriting and will look no further than to understand what it is. Not after last time at least."

Searching for a pen around the room, as he had the paper already, he stumbled upon another book. Never having seen it before since it was in an odd place- under the cushion to the chair- he picked it up out of curiosity. The black leather cover was etched into spelling out words in beautiful calligraphy. He traced the words several times with his finger until reading them out aloud.

"Aisling's Tales of the Stars," he whispered.

The book was opened. His knees suddenly gave as he fell back into the chair behind him. This was his wife's handwriting. Each constellation was written with the stories of the stars. He remembered several of these. He and Jack passed the hours from listening to Aisling tell her stories of the stars. She wrote them down in a book for Jack.

Teague paged through the book, wasting time by reading each story. Several constellations he remembered her pointing to the two of them. They had no idea what it was because she just made it up. All were in alphabetical order, including the ones she made up. All but the last star. The last star was Polaris.

This was the page that had nearly fallen from the book. It was covered in dirt and wrinkled from being read many times. Reading through the tale, he read back into the last few days of his wife's life. The story of Polaris was the story she told Jack the night she died. Every time he looked at that star her story came into her head.

Without warning, the book was pulled from his hands.

"Wot are you doing with my book?" Jack demanded.

"Your book?" asked Teague, his heart's spirit lowering.

"It has my name on it," Jack told him. He opened to the first page and pointed. "See, _To Jonathan Galvyn Teague, my little Jack Sparrow._ Mum intended it to be mine."

Teague looked at him.

Suddenly realizing what he did, Jack's eyes widened in fear. He dropped the book in his father's lap. "I'm sorry, you can have it."

He turned to leave.

"Jack," called Teague, reaching for his son's arm.

Jack turned and looked at him expecting to be beaten for his actions.

Teague stood, never letting Jack from his grasp. He slowly approached him. "You don't look so good."

"Wot?" asked Jack.

"You don't look as well as you usually do," noted Teague. He touched the stitches on his son's forehead. "These need to be replaced before you're infected." He brought his son's arm from the sling. "These need to be tightened as well."

"I can do it. You don't have to waste any more of your time with me," Jack told him, trying to pull away.

"Jackie, you can't stitch your head and you know it," said Teague.

"I can have someone else do it," said Jack.

"I'll do it," said Teague.

Jack pulled away as he shook his head. He opened his mouth to speak then decided against it. Instead he turned and walked away.

"Jonathan," a voice growled.

Jack shut his eyes as he bit his lip. He turned with fear on his face as his father approached him.

"You're coming with me and I am stitching your head," Teague told him.

"I don't want you to," said Jack.

"Why not?" asked Teague.

"If I tell you you'll probably throw me from this ship and hope I breathe my last breath or enjoy the fall," said Jack. With one look from his father his head bowed to his chest as he nodded.

With no choice, Jack sat on the bed in the middle of a room looking at many odd devices around him. In his lap, his fingers twiddled nervously. He was literally dragged down here so Teague wasn't pleased and he was going to bring a needle close to his head. He flinched as a lantern was placed above him.

"Easy Jack," Teague told him.

He tilted Jack's head to left, bringing the right side toward the light.

Jack pulled away as scissors were brought close to his head. His jaw was taken into a forceful grip.

Teague moved Jack's head to where he wanted. He looked at Jack. "I swear to God, if you move your head I will take this and cut up what brains you have." He cut the end of a knot. "You can breathe though."

Jack exhaled as he body slumped.

Continuing, Teague slowly and gently pulled the black stitching from Jack's head. After, he cleaned the wound with a hot rag then smeared an oil like substance across the cut causing Jack to breathe sharply and squeeze his eyes, but he did not move his head.

"It's not such a dark blue bruise anymore and skin has begun to form together," noted Teague while threading a needle.

"That's good?" wondered Jack, unsure.

"Of course. It means your head is healing," said Teague. He tilted Jack's head to get the lighting correct.

Jack's eyes turned away in fear as the needle was brought closer toward his head until he felt dull pressure and his skin slightly pulling. Unlike every other time someone had taken stitches to him this didn't hurt. It was barely noticeable. His eyes moved to watch his father. Teague's expression was calm and careful, eyes never leaving the wound even as he pulled the thread back. Jack suddenly flinched.

"Sorry Jackie," whispered Teague.

Jack's heart stopped beating a moment as he felt the moisture of tears come to his eyes. "Wot did you say?"

"I was apologizing for poking your head too deeply," whispered Teague.

Still in wonder, Jack glanced around the room trying to recall the last time he ever received a sincere apology from his father. "You've never apologized to me before," he noted, his voice small.

Teague leaned closer to set the needle in Jack's skin once more. "There is a first for everything Jackie," he told him.

Not knowing if he was awake or asleep anymore, Jack stared at his father's face in wonder. He had never seen such careful attention toward one small thing in his life. The only thing what brought him from inside his mind was pressure on his arm.

Teague pressed against Jack's bare, left forearm. Up, down and side to side, he checked the feeling of the bone and pressed in certain areas, gently massaging it as well to bring blood back.

"Ow!" Jack cried as he breathed sharply.

"Where?" Teague asked, suddenly.

"Right there," Jack told him.

"Here?" wondered Teague as he pressed against the bone between the middle of his forearm and wrist.

"Ouch! Yes," Jack told him in a whining tone.

"Other than there you're fine," said Teague. He felt the area where it caused Jack the most pain. "I would expect the bone to still be bruised."

"Wot am I supposed to do then?" asked Jack.

"There is nothing you can do. Like all bruises you need to let it heal away," Teague told him. "Hold your arm out as straight as you can." Jack looked at him skeptical. "I need to set the bandages."

Jack held out his arm slowly.

A heavy amount of soft, thick cloth was placed around the bruised bone before the rest of his forearm was bandaged tightly but more gently than anything. Teague's hands moved gently across the arm afterward, gently massaging once more until his fingers slowly reached around Jack's palm.

Not looking at him, Jack curled his fingers around his father's hand. Part of him knew what he was doing the other had no feeling or intention of doing it. It seemed natural to do. All of him realizing what he had done, his eyes moved toward his hand. Two hands, only one belonging to him, were clasped lightly together on his knee. He followed the arm to his father's face.

Their eyes locked as each one stared at the other as if never having seen each other before.

"Jack, can I try something?" Teague asked quietly.

Slowly, Jack nodded.

Teague hid his lower lip below his upper as his free hand moved toward Jack's face. He continued to look into Jack's curious chocolate eyes as his hand went closer. He set the tip of his forefinger on Jack's cheek.

Jack suddenly stood, pulling away from everything. "I have to finish the report," he told him like something was caught in his throat.

"You should do that," Teague agreed as he collected the old bandaging. Jack nodded as he turned to leave. "Jack, your arm is fine. You don't have to keep it up anymore as long as you don't use it for everything."

Turning his head, Jack nodded at him as before he suddenly rushed from the room.

Once Jack was from his sight, Teague threw everything in his hand across the room then slumped on the bed. He shook his head. His eyes moved to his finger. It was so close. He was closer than he ever had been to bringing his son back in his life. He wasn't sure what caused Jack to suddenly pull away. If all Jack wanted was love from him then why did he pull away? Why? Instead of wondering, he went to hunt down Jack to ask him personally.

Jack Sparrow sat in his study with the pen in his hand. He brought the pen to the paper several times, however, nothing but a black blob marked the paper. Nothing in his mind made sense. He didn't want to write anymore because he didn't want to remember it ever again. Not like he could remember anyway. His mind was tortured by what he had just allowed his father to do. Why did he let him do that? Why did he take his father's hand? If they ever got close in any form he would be left alone again. He couldn't be left alone anymore. His father was going to be the next one to die if he showed he loved him.

"All right Jack Sparrow, why?" Teague's voice growled as he entered the room.

"Why wot?" asked Jack.

"Why did you pull away? All your life you've only want me to love you. I showed you some of that and you don't want any of it. Why?" asked Teague.

"You wouldn't understand," Jack told him.

"Why?" asked Teague.

Jack turned around to write on the paper and did so. "Because."

Teague approached him. He pulled Jack's hair to look at him. "Why do you suddenly not want love?"

"Why should I tell you? You've never cared for me," Jack said.

"How would you know?" asked Teague.

"If I recall, which I do in fact, I was the one left at a church in London and never saw my father for the next ten years much less knew if he was alive or not. He didn't even send money to survive or stop by to say hello. No, he just stays here in Shipwreck Cove rotting away. Does that sound like love to you 'cuz it doesn't to me," said Jack.

"I don't think you have the capacity to love anyway," noted Teague.

"Then why are you wasting your time wondering why I ran away when you made a pitiful attempt to prove you black heart has love?" asked Jack.

Teague opened his mouth as he raised his finger and pointed it at Jack. Deciding against all he wanted to say to him, nothing came from his mouth. Rather than wasting his breath arguing and time strangling him, Teague turned and walked out of the room.

Jack stuck his tongue out at the door as he usually did when he was upset with his father. He turned to the paper, wrote on it, and let the piece fall from the window into the sea below him.

"That's why! It's right there on that piece of paper!" he yelled towards the door.

Hearing his son's shout, Teague rolled his eyes as he walked back into the room to clean the mess he threw out of fury. He remembered what happened to the love he used to have for Jack. Jack was the one who ruined it and threw it away himself. He was the immature child taking anything from his father and continued to come back. Then again, Teague was the one who nearly killed Jack to get him away. After a few times he would have thought Jack to have gotten the message across, but Jack just wanted love. Perhaps the two of them were destined to fight like this until the end of time. Love, possibly, was just not acceptable for the two of them. There was only love they knew between them for seven years. One didn't remember any of it; the other just wanted to know what happened to it.

Teague sighed, just wanting to know what happened to the two of them. They had something and it just left suddenly with Aisling's death. Was she the one keeping the two together or did everything just fall apart afterward?

* * *

Failing at another attempt to write the ending of the review, Jack crawled beneath his blankets and blew out the candle. Not tired but having no other option than sleep, he rolled on his side to watch the sky.

The night was clear and the air cool. In the sky, the stars twinkled brightly, waving him to come observe them.

Jack's eyes scanned the sky from what he saw in the Cove. His eyes fell on one star in particular. Needing more than just this and not tired any longer, he stood out of bed, slipped his feet into his slippers, grabbed a thick robe, and a candle. He ascended the fortress to the highest ship with his single candle. He went to the chest with the telescopes and knelt.

Having opened the chest of telescopes his eyes first came across a piece of paper in his father's hand.

_Jack, you're meant to read them. I would do so somewhere comfortable where you wouldn't mind spending a few hours. It's the only possible way I can answer every question you have. There is no other solution. You have to read them. Please._

"That's odd," he noted.

Deciding to ignore that by its odd message, he chose his telescope for the night. Already taken his telescope of choice for the night, he climbed the ladder to the crow's nest of the ship. As there was no moon for the night, everything was dark and ideal for stargazing. He set the telescope on the wood only it wasn't exactly wood.

Curious, he felt beneath the bottom of the scope feeling what he thought was a book. Frustration came over him. There was only one person who knew the route to this point in the Cove.

"Of course you wouldn't put anything away after your finished. Making me do it," he grumbled to himself as he walked down the ladder with a total of four books in his arms. "Lazy, pirate. Don't know how to put thing back when you're done with them. What if it had rained then what would you have- wot are these anyway?"

Finally noticing the color of the book and seeing they had no title, curiosity took his whining. He looked at the dark green leather. One book in particular was much, much older than any he had seen in a long while.

"No use wondering," he noted as he opened the book.

_October 27, I'm a father. Aisling and I are parents. I have a little boy, Jonathan Galvyn Teague. Undoubtedly, though it is a good Christian name, I'll hardly ever call him Jonathan. His name is Jack, my Jack, my little white Jack Sparrow._

Jack shut the book to star at the wood in confusion. He read the five sentences over and over again then slammed the book shut. "Not mine. Last time I read something of his he nearly chopped me fingers from their arm."

The books were set in a nice neat pile on the table. He made to return to stargazing, but suddenly remembered an odd message on a random piece of paper. He returned to the table where the paper was also set beside the books. After reading the note again, his eyes turned to the books.

A note was set in a chest of telescopes. Four books were set at the observatory. Things like that didn't just happen by coincidence.

* * *

In the morning, as clouds rolled in, Edward Teague took himself to the highest ship on the fortress. He had a feeling by the wind and wave patterns a good storm was expected after noon. Knowing his books were still sitting unprotected against nature, he made to retrieve them.

A considerable amount of coolness came upon him as he ascended the ladder to the crow's nest. The sooner he brought the books to his suite the sooner he could batten down for the day. Bringing himself into the nest, he circled around several times not seeing the dark green leather.

Hoping and praying, he gasped as he rushed into the hull below him. Looking in the chest, the note was gone as well. He made a full search for the books in the hull. Not one of the four was there. Feeling more afraid than glad, he walked to his room slowly. He didn't quite realize where he was going until he felt softness beneath him. Even glancing around his room, he found it difficult to understand anything.

He wasn't sure whether he was glad Jack found them. Answering his question, his heart began rapidly beating. Nervousness and fear took hold of him. What would Jack say about it all? Would he have reason to believe it? How would he take the words in the books? When was he going to be finished? Was he going to finish them? How was he supposed to answer anything to Jack? What was going to happen to the two of them? Everything Jack Sparrow ever asked was in those four journals in some form and it wasn't all of them either.

Edward Teague sat on the chair by the window, watching the rain slowly drip from the sky then gently fall against the French doors. He was merely waiting for his son to return and dreaded the moment he did.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Neither Jack Sparrow nor Edward Teague was seen for two days by any other soul. The Cove was quiet and, unusually, tension surrounded them all. They knew it would have to happen eventually. The war between Jack and Teague had gone on long enough. It was time for an end.

Like he had done for two days, Teague sat in his library reading books upon books, distracting his mind from what he would have to face. Each passing of another hour brought Jack closer and closer to him. Still, he didn't know how he would answer any question Jack had. Through it all, at least he didn't have to tell Jack everything in the books.

His eyes fell upon a certain book bound in dark green dyed leather. That was the final book. It was a matter of when eyes would once again read the words he wrote not long ago, the most recent being the night he discovered the other four books missing.

Distantly, at least he thought it did, the sound of a door being shut came across the room. He shut his eyes suddenly feeling his heart beat twice as fast. Soft footfalls approached him then suddenly stopped. Breathing deeply he turned.

Jack Sparrow stared at him, the books tightly cradled against his chest. Tears were in his confused eyes. His cheeks glistened and eyes red. He opened his mouth to speak.

"There is one more left Jack. I need you to read it right here," said Teague.

Looking down, Jack saw a book of the same coloring as the other four being held out to him. He set the four on the desk then took the last one. Making himself comfortable, he sat in the cushion chair and opened the cover.

Teague watched Jack's face with each page turn. Tears formed in his son's eyes more each page. Confusion and wonder were most common of the expressions. A small smile occasionally came to his face. The small smile was the happiest he ever saw his son.

Seeing Jack look more and more confused, he knew it was the most recent thoughts and words. There was much he regretted in his life, the words he wrote in the book were among them. Jack's face became more confused. Anger appeared on his face as well as sadness. Tears fell from his eyes and rolled gently down his face like the pouring rain in the open air.

Eventually Jack looked up, directly at him.

Feeling Jack looking at him, Teague turned his head from the window to his son.

The two stared at each other, both with tears in his eyes.

Jack swallowed hard. "You did wot to me head?"

"Of all things in the world to ask me after reading what you just did, you ask me what I did to your head," noted Teague.

"Yes," Jack replied softly. He touched the right side of his head. "I just don't understand."

"That's more like it," Teague said. "And to answer your question. I placed a piece of eight in your head to replace the broken bone. If I didn't you would have died."

Jack looked at him shaking his head. He stood to set the book in his father's lap. "I don't believe you. I don't believe any of it."

"Why?" asked Teague.

"Because," Jack told him. "All me life I've only known you to try to kill me and all you've done is hate me. Why didn't you tell me anything? If you love me like you supposedly wrote in the books you would have told me."

"How could I tell you I loved you after leaving you in London?" asked Teague.

"You could have just told me!" Jack screamed. "Is that so difficult?"

Teague stood. "Then why did you come find me? I repeatedly told you to stay away from me and yet you came back to me. I shot you Jack and you still came back afterward. Why?"

Jack looked away. "You wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

"I came back just because I wanted to feel loved by you. I wanted you to hold me. The only reason I fight to stay alive is just for you to accept me once. Instead of telling me anything, you give me books to read. That doesn't exactly mean anything. How do I know you didn't just write all this down?"

"I understand why this is difficult for you to accept Jack."

"Accept? No, no, no. You are not even close to where I just came from. I don't believe."

"That I understand as well."

"No you don't."

"All right Jack, what don't I understand?"

"Love," Jack told him simply.

"And it is something you understand more than I?" wondered Teague. "I've been the one keeping an eye on you since you were seven. I saved your life several-"

"After you shot me!" shouted Jack. "That doesn't sound like love at all mate."

"Then what is it?"

"Love is telling some you love him. Love is not abandoning him because you can't take care of him. Love is sending him a letter or small token of affection. Love is not hurting him to leave him at a port and then do everything you can to save him when his best friend brings him to you to heal. Love causes everyone to die."

"What are you talking about?"

"I loved mum, but she got influenza from me and died. I loved Bill and look what happened to him. He was cursed and sent to the bottom of the ocean then forced to serve Jones. I loved Elizabeth and she's alone now. I loved Will and- it's my fault he's that way."

"And what about me Jack? Surely if you wanted me to love you then you would have to love me."

"I don't love you. All you've done is make me suffer."

"So I should have let you die all those times."

"Why didn't you?"

"I loved you Jack.

"Lov_ed._ Exactly. Lov-ed. Past. You loved the past but you don't love me now."

"What makes you say that?"

"You would have told me by now that you love me."

"I didn't know how."

"I love you Jack. Is that such a difficult thing to say?"

"Then you say it back to me."

"I don't love you."

"Jack, why not?"

"Because you lie and cheat and don't care and don't know how to love and all you do is abandon."

"I love you Jack."

"You're only saying that to make me shut it. Well, I'm not going to shut it because I'm not finished."

"You know, you're right Jack. I don't love you. You're behaving like a whining child."

"Isn't that how I've always been?"

"I thought you would have changed. You were changed at the Court meeting. Now you're back to normal."

"How would you feel? Two more people you love had their lives ruined. I killed one of them."

"Only halfway."

"It doesn't matter. I don't want you to tell me you love me or hold me or heal me anymore. I don't want you to do anything to me. I don't want you in my life. It's you why my life has been miserable. I was lost and alone and all you ever did was push me away. I don't care if you thought you couldn't take care of me. You didn't try very well."

"Jack, I tried. I had to let you go to keep you alive. You were nearly killed when you were seven. I was a mess when I let you go."

"You could have stayed away from the sea and raised me until I was old enough, but no, that was the right thing to do. You had to do what you wanted."

"Jack Sparrow, what do you want from me? You have all you ever wanted from me. I'm trying to give you love and explain everything."

"I don't know wot I want," Jack told him. "I don't know wot I want anymore. Wot am I supposed to want?"

"You want your father and you know you do," said Teague. "Jack, I want to be your father."

"Why? Why suddenly do you want to be my father? You should have been my father twenty-nine years ago."

"I was."

"Then you stopped when I was seven. Twenty nine years later you want me to suddenly accept you?"

"I would like that?"

"I won't. Why should I? I've wanted to be your son for twenty-nine years. I've waited all my life for you to want me. I can't trust you. I can't trust meself. I don't want you because you'll abandon me again when you don't want me."

"Jack that was the past."

"The past never changes."

"Do you want me to abandon you in Tortuga!" shouted Teague.

"Yes!" Jack screamed. "I want that. And I don't ever want you coming to look for me again."

"What is it with you? You don't want a father anymore then?"

"Not you!" Jack screamed as he turned to leave.

Teague grabbed his arm. "I'm sorry Jack because you have me. You've only wanted me and now you have me."

"You might have me body but you'll never have anything else. I'll never love you like I did a week ago. I don't want to know the truth. I wish I had never read those stupid books."

"You can't change the past Jack."

"I'm going to try."

"How?"

"At least I'm going to try to do something rather than abandoning everything because I'm afraid. I'll admit it. I'm afraid."

"Afraid of what?"

"You. I've always been afraid of you."

"Well I've always been afraid of you too. I've been afraid to lose you."

"Then it's settled. If we go our ways we won't know if the other is alive or not."

"I can't live the rest of my life wondering if you're alive or dead."

"You've done it for twenty nine years. Why not more?"

"I've never noticed how annoying you are."

"Good then I suppose you don't want me."

"I want to be your father. I've always loved you Jack. I love you now as we argue."

"Its too late for that. I'll never love you."

"Jack Sparrow what do you want?" asked Teague.

"You to let me go," replied Jack.

"No, _what_ do you want?" asked Teague. "Do you want me to leave you in Tortuga and never think of you again? Do you want me to talk to you about everything? Do you want a father? Do you want to be my son? What do you want?"

Jack's mouth opened. He tried to talk several times. Only tears came from him. "I can't want to be your son and you me father. If I do I'll lose you."

"No you won't. I'm not going anywhere," said Teague.

Jack pushed his father away. He shook his head. "If I love you like I did mum and Elizabeth and Bill and Will you'll die just like them. I can't live without you, but knowing I killed you because I loved you I'll never forgive meself. I have to hate you to keep you alive. I want you to abandon me. I don't want to see you again. I want you to live, so I can't be your son."

He turned and sprinted from the room.

Teague ran his fingers through his hair. He wiped his eyes. Jack was his son in every way. He loved fiercely enough to let go of that which he loved most.

Shaking his head, Teague ran after Jack, not going to lose him again.

Hearing his father yell for him, Jack ran faster. He wasn't going to kill his father either. Four people already died because of him. It wasn't going to happen to his father either. Everything in the books was true. He knew it. He had to run away to save the last thing he loved, truly.

Below him his feet slipped. He grabbed a loose piece of wood to sustain his balance. In the process, he cut deeply into his hand.

"Jack!" Teague called.

"Stay away from me!" Jack screamed as he turned, seeing his father just down the hall and running toward him.

He got to his feet and continued running wherever there was space to run. Knowing his father was behind him, he turned quite often. Not knowing where he ran, he just ran. Perhaps if he ran fast enough or far enough he would never be seen again or his father would understand to stay away from him.

"Jack, please," Teague pleaded.

"I can't love you," Jack told him, not turning his head.

"But you do love him."

"You know you do."

"I'll lose him too," Jack said. "I can't lose him."

"Just where do you intend to go?"

"You can't keep on running like this forever. There are only so many halls in Shipwreck City."

"Jackie, stop running. You have all you want."

"Go to him."

"Turn around."

Jack turned his head. There his father was, continuing to run for something he just finally got back. He was loved. All these years of wanting and waiting and wishing, his father did love him.

"JACK!"

For only a moment, Jack felt the impact against his fragile body. He tumbled down the steps then lay at the bottom in a limp, unconscious heap.

Teague nearly slipped down the stairs as well. He rushed to his son's side.

"Jack. Jack, are you all right? Jack," he whispered. He pressed his palm against Jack's bleeding head. "Say something. Jack, please."

Feeling moisture on his other hand as well, he glanced down.

Jack's tunic was stained red with blood.

Teague ripped the rest of the cloth. A splinter of wood was embedded into Jack's chest, between two ribs.

"Jack," he whispered as Jack's eyes slightly opened.

Already, his left eye was bloodshot and face bruised. He breathed sharply, everything tensing.

"No, don't move Jack," Teague told him. "Don't move."

Jack coughed and choked until head tilted to the side allowing bright red blood to pour out of his mouth. By the moment, his face lost more and more color.

Trembling with fear, Teague held onto his son. Jack was dying. _Dying_.

"Will," he said, his voice squeaking.

Jack cried out in pain then choked on more blood before continuing to scream.

Edward Teague looked at the water. "WILL!"

He watched Jack, keeping his son still, pleading for him to stay with him. A hand on his shoulder caused him to whip around.

"What did you do to him?" Bill demanded.

"He read the journals," Teague replied.

Will pushed Teague's hand away from Jack's head. There were only a few drops coming from the wound. He looked at Jack's chest. Barely touching the splinter, Jack screamed and tensed.

"Father, his ribs are broken," he said softly.

"I would expect so," said Bill.

Will wiped the blood away from Jack's chest. His eyes widened then turned to Teague. "Which bullet were you not able to remove?"

"What?" asked Teague.

"Which one?" asked Will again.

"The one between his ribs," replied Teague.

"You mean these ribs?" wondered Will, looking at the splinter. "The ones that are now broken?"

Teague turned his eyes to Jack's wound. He nodded. "One of them."

Will suddenly palmed Jack's face. "It has to be removed now. He has less than an hour of life in him."

"What?" asked Teague his voice dead.

"Eddy, come with me. Will, stay here," said Bill as he dragged Teague to his feet.

Knowing it would have to be done here, Will moved Jack on his back as gentle as he could in a situation like this. He tore Jack's tunic from him entirely to roll in a ball. Making the attempt to slow the blood loss, he placed pressure around the splinter.

Jack whimpered and tensed, still having a mind among the pain.

Will hushed him and caressed his forehead. "You'll be fine. I'm here. You'll be all right either way."

Understanding him, Jack gave a few small nods of his head.

Bill and Teague returned with buckets and towels.

Teague wrung out a soaking towel frantically with trembling hands.

Bill shook his head as he took the towel. "I'll do it. I've done this before. You tell me what to do."

"Clean it," Teague told him.

Nodding, Bill cleaned the blood from Jack's chest. Without having word, he pulled the splinter from Jack's chest.

Jack tensed more and shrieked.

"Keep going," Will told them. "He's losing more life."

"You tell me his life and you tell me what to do," said Bill.

Teague looked Jack's chest. He wiped away more blood then pointed. "These two. It was buried between these two. The bottom one is broken so it would have gone beneath."

"Lift the rib?" assumed Bill.

Teague nodded. He handed Bill a scalpel with trembling hands.

Bill cut below the infliction of the splinter. He took another tool from the bucket, which he buried within the wound.

Teague stared at Jack's face.

Jack coughed a bit. His entire body shook. He breathed deeply before losing all consciousness.

Will pressed harder against Jack's cheek, with more frantic of movements. He looked at his father and Teague.

"Jack," whispered Teague.

"Move!" Will demanded, pushing Teague out of the way.

"Will look for the bullet, I'll hold the rib," said Bill.

Nodding, Will took forceps in his hand. His eyes darted in the small area of Jack's wound. All at once, he shoved the forceps into the opening.

Teague shut his eyes and turned away as he pressed his forehead against his son's. He couldn't watch. Suddenly, of all the other times he was at Jack's side realizing him to be dying, this was the worst. He never knew himself to love Jack as much as he did. He was going to lose him. Jack was right after all.

"Eddy let go."

Teague let his arms from Jack as he moved his head off of Jack's. He sat up only to bury his face in his palms. Behind him he heard the two talking to each other with quick voices as well as metal being dropped against wood. This was his fault. He knew it. Jack's life was going to end because of him. Jack loved him and it was his love in return that would cause the two of them to be forever separated.

"Well?"

"It's too early to feel any difference."

"Edward, it's out."

Teague turned his head. He rushed forward to take Jack in his arms rather than Will's.

"No," Will said.

"He's _my_ son!" Teague hollered.

"I know. I'll carry him then you can be with him. He needs to rest," Will told him.

"I'll take you to his room," said Teague as he stood.

Will and Bill glanced around the room as Teague sat beside Jack, staring at his face.

"Can you tell yet?" asked Teague.

Will looked at Jack. He touched his forehead. "Better. He's better, but I can't guarantee he'll live."

"Don't leave yet," Teague asked of the two of them. "If he doesn't, I want you to-"

"I can't do that unless he wants it," said Will. "It's his decision and his alone. No one can condemn another soul to serve."

"I should," said Teague.

"If isn't awake he can't make a choice," added Will.

"He has to wake," said Teague, reaching his trembling hand to touch Jack's face. "I just got him."

"Come, we should go for a walk. Will will stay here and keep an eye on Jack. There is nothing you can do. Will being here is the best recovery medicine Jack can have. He alone can comfort Jack's soul more than with you in here. He'll tell us if anything happens," said Bill.

Teague's eyes did not leave Jack's pale face as he shook his head.

"Teague, please, I may have some gift to tap into Jack's soul and keep it here. I'm still learning," said Will.

"Come on, let's go," said Bill, squeezing Teague's shoulders.

Halfway walking and the other being supported, Teague left the room with Bill's arm around his shoulder.

Will turned back to Jack wondering if he did have a gift to tap into a soul and keep it with him. It was worth a try at least. If not, he already knew his presence would be more than enough to give Jack's soul comfort and ease the pain, possibly assisting recovery.

* * *

Jack opened his eyes. Before anything, even the pain, he stared at Will curiously.

"Welcome back," Will whispered, brushing Jack's cheek with the back of his fingers.

Now feeling the pain, Jack set his palm against his chest. "Wot did he do to me?"

"Your father didn't do anything to you. You did it to yourself. By mistake of course," said Will. Jack merely looked at him. "You slipped and fell down stairs. Your head took an impact and you broke a rib. You cut your hand too. The good news is you no longer have a bullet rotting away between your ribs."

Jack simply looked at him. That wasn't exactly good enough news to make him feel better. He glanced around the room.

"I don't exactly remember falling mate," he noted. "How long have you been here?"

Will shrugged his shoulders. He looked at the morning sky. "Over a day. Not long. I've just been keeping an eye on you."

"Where's everybody else?" wondered Jack.

"The crew is around here somewhere. I don't know where my father is. I haven't seen him," said Will.

"Where is my father?" asked Jack.

"With mine," replied Will.

Jack squeezed his eyes shut as he tensed. He looked at the ceiling in pain then turned to Will. "Is he okay?"

"They're both fine. Your father is worried about you though. He slept beside you in a chair last night. He just wants you to be all right," said Will.

"It is true then," Jack noted to himself. "All of it was true."

Will looked at him oddly. "What is true?"

"You wouldn't understand," said Jack.

"The journals?" asked Will. "Your father let me read them seeing as I was the only one who hadn't between the four of us. He knows you and I are like brothers. It was appropriate that I know them as well."

Jack shut his eyes. "Now someone else knows wot a mess I am."

"Not a mess. You're just confused. I never thought you were a mess. I've always thought of you as confusing. I understand why completely now," noted Will. "What are you doing alive anyway?"

"I honestly don't know why I'm still alive," admitted Jack. "I should have died when I was seven."

"But you didn't. The world has always thought of you has having a greater purpose than what you've known," said Will.

"Wot?" asked Jack. His eyes moved to the scar on Will's chest. "To complete your destiny?"

Will lowered his head to look at the scar. He traced it with his forefinger then clutched the key. "Perhaps, but it's not as terrible as you think. I'm still technically alive. Father and I are together so I'm not alone. I've been writing to Elizabeth and she back to me. All is well save I'm still cleaning what Jonesey left behind. Don't worry about it; you did fine."

"I don't feel like it," said Jack.

"I know. I haven't accepted what fate chose for me, but I know it could have been worse," said Will.

"Being with your mother and never feeling pain against doesn't sound worse to me," noted Jack.

"The old Jack would have said that, but this Jack right in front of me has a father who is willing to look after his son and do all he should have done twenty nine years ago," said Will.

Jack felt a small smile tug on the side of his face. He gave a small nod of his head. "Did I break me arm again?"

Will laughed as he shook his head. "No, your arm is fine. It may be sore but it's fine. How is your head?"

"Hurts," said Jack, moving his hand up to his head to feel the wound. He knew it wasn't swollen. Rather, he felt the bruise he knew was black if not a very dark blue or both in fact. "Wot did I do to me hand?"

"You cut it," replied Will.

"Wot happened to me chest because it hurts," whined Jack.

"Bad?" wondered Will.

"Sore and it hurts to breathe," Jack told him.

"I already told you Jack. You broke a rib and we had to remove a bullet that had been rotting away between your ribs for five years."

"I don't think it would hurt this badly mate," said Jack.

"More than not you bruised several more," Will said.

"Why does this always happen to me and no one else?" Jack asked himself.

"I wish I could feel broken ribs," Will admitted softly. "I wish I could feel anything."

Jack looked at him then touched his hand. "Can you feel that?"

"Aye, but I mean mentally feel. I can't feel my heart and my feelings aren't as strong as I remember. I'm still adjusting to this, which means my body is still draining feeling," said Will.

"You make it sound terrible. You were just the one who was telling said pirate it wasn't as bad as I thought it was," noted Jack.

"I'm sorry, I have random moments of overwhelming emotion and feeling like I have at the moment," said Will.

"So now wouldn't be a good time to tell you I love Elizabeth?" asked Jack with a smile.

Will's eyes formed into a cool glare. "If you want to live I wouldn't say that again and I don't mean I'll kill you either." Jack smile became soft laughter. "Don't laugh!"

"Why not?" asked Jack suddenly frightened by Will's reaction.

"Because you'll ruin your ribs more. You can't laugh or move your torso for a few days if you want to recover correctly," said Will.

"But wot is life if I can't laugh?" asked Jack, a pout forming on his face.

"You can laugh just not now," Will snapped.

"Okay," replied Jack with a small voice.

"By the way, you're fortunate you didn't kill my father," added Will.

"He was the one who willingly looked after me," said Jack. "I never did thank him for it."

"There will be plenty of times. I'm not leaving you for a few more days. I've already spoken with her Majesty of the Sea and she said I needed to be here more than World's End as we've come to call it. Someone has to look after you," said Will.

"Am I dying?" wondered Jack, his voice quiet.

Will looked at him with a sigh. He brushed Jack's cheek. "You've been slowly dying you're entire life. Ever since we brought you back from the Locker you've not been yourself. Not all of you came back. Being what I am, I can sense death and you have a touch of death inside your soul. Ever since you were seven you've always had a touch of death. Your body never quite recovered from influenza and your soul never wholly returned from the Locker." He forced a smile on his face after noticing Jack's. "Don't worry. You're not going to die any time soon. I'm just saying you'll never really be whole because you never truly have been."

"But I'll be all right right?" asked Jack.

"Of course. If anything happens to you I'll be there to ask you or not if that's what you want," said Will.

"I think I would choose you," admitted Jack.

"Never mind this talk," Will said shaking his head. "You should go back to sleep. You're going to need it."

"I suppose," said Jack with a heavy sigh.

Will lightly smacked his shoulder. "Don't breathe to deeply either. And don't-"

"I know don't do anything that might possibly move my ribs," Jack snapped back at him. He looked at Will, his face slowly becoming blue.

"You can breathe normally. Jack, breathe," Will told him.

Jack inhaled as he laughed. "I couldn't resist mate."

Will smiled as he shook his head. "Well, at least I know you're still my Jack Sparrow."

"Your Jack Sparrow? You aren't even related to me in anyway," said Jack. He looked at Will curiously. "Do you know if your father is my father's little brother?"

"They aren't brothers by blood Jack. They are close enough and trust each other with that most precious to them," said Will.

Jack's eyes lowered, understanding Will's meaning behind his words. "I don't want to believe it because I can't."

"Give him time. Let him talk with you. You'll see he's not as bad as you've been led," said Will. "I was wrong of him myself."

"I think we all were," said Jack, nuzzling the side of his face against his pillow. He shut his eyes. "Can you tell him to be here when I wake up again?"

"Aye," whispered Will. "I'll do that."

Jack nodded his head slowly.

Will waited for the pirate to sink into sleep once more. Thinking for a few minutes in his mind, he was curious about a question Teague asked him. Answering that question for his own, he set his palm against Jack's face then moved it to rest over Jack's heart. He sighed, his eyes lowering in sadness as he looked at his friend's sleeping face.

"You've never really lived have you?" he whispered then left to find his and Jack's fathers.

It didn't require much effort to find the two of them. More or less they ran into him while he wandered the halls and dragged him into the courtroom where the Turners sat on each side of Teague as he sat at the head.

"How are you?" asked Will.

"How's Jack?" wondered Teague.

"No, how are you?" Will asked again.

"I don't know. I feel as though I've just gotten a heart inside my body," said Teague.

"Wonder if it's mine," noted Will softly.

"And Jack?" wondered Teague.

"He woke. Not too much pain. I told him he fell and broke a rib as well as bruising. His head hurts and his chest is sore, but he'll heal. He's asleep again."

"So he's going to live then?" asked Teague, his eyes hopeful and voice fearful.

Will nodded subtly. "Aye, Jack will be all right for now."

Teague sighed, his entire body slumping into the chair. He pressed his palms against his face then rubbed his forehead.

Bill set his hand on Teague's shoulder then turned to Will. "For losing emotion you have quite a bit on your face."

"Remember the question you asked me?" began Will, looking at Teague.

"If my boy was going to live several years with me?" asked Teague. Will nodded. "He's going to. I'll see to it he patches up and I'll get him back at sea as soon as possible."

"Come with me. You need to see what I do to believe me," said Will as he went to his feet and left.

"Oh dear, something tragic has happened in his mind. I've seen that look one too many a times," said Bill.

The expression on Teague's face went pale and fearful. When he walked into his son's room he saw Will sitting beside Jack, his hand over his heart and eyes mournfully watching him like he was dead.

Bill slowly entered the room. He sat at the foot of the bed, looking at Jack and seeming to feel the same his son did.

Teague sat in a chair beside Jack looking between his son and the two Turners. "I don't seem to understand why you two look like that."

"I'll tell him," said Will.

"Tell me what?" demanded Teague.

"When you look at Jack what do you see? What do you see by his appearance? If you have never seen Jack in your life what would you tell me you see on his face and how he rests?" asked Will.

"I'm not sure I want to answer you," noted Teague.

"It's nothing bad. Jack will recover and be himself again. I simply want to know what you see in Jack at this very moment," said Will.

Teague looked at him, Bill then back to Will before settling his eyes on Jack. He studied him. "Jack looks cold and lonely like he's never had anyone in his life show compassion. He's not sleeping comfortably. His breathing is rougher than when he's awake. He looks lost and…he's fighting something away. His body is fighting." He looked at Will. "What is he fighting?"

"Death," replied Will.

"You said he would recover," Teague told him angered.

"He's been fighting death since he was seven. He never recovered completely from influenza. Being at sea for as long periods as he was when he was a child never gave opportunity for his body to build defenses against illness," said Will.

"He had never had the chance to fight illness because there was nothing in him to fight it," added Bill. "Leaving him alone weakened his soul."

"And every time he came down with illness a little more of him died. Think of all the moments you heard your son was ill and each one of those he never truly recovered. He never truly recovered from anything. His soul is sensitive to pain, illness, war, events, feeling, emotion, anything that can get in. Once something's in it never came out. All these years of fighting away illnesses as well as injuries while trying to be loved by someone has taken a toll on him," said Will.

"Not to mention his months in the Locker," added Bill.

Will nodded. "Especially that. We knew Jack wasn't Jack the moment we rescued him. He spent many hours wandering around talking to himself like he was talking to another. He was quiet and kept to himself. His world was no longer him, it was everyone else. Of course he wanted to benefit himself, but being away from the world he loved and everyone in it, he wanted them more than his own benefits. He lost his mind in Davy Jones' Locker and part of his soul and life. Part of Jack Sparrow is forever going to linger in the Locker." He sighed heavily. "We knew Jack died in the Locker, but we thought it was only his mind he lost. The moment I rescued Jack from the storm there was something I felt in him that wasn't right. I couldn't place it until all this."

Teague put his hands up. "Stop Will, I know what you're going to say to me. I don't want to hear it."

"You have to hear it because you must accept it," Will told him. "Everything, illness, lack of compassion and love to his soul, life's course, and all that occurred in the past year finally brought him down. Jack's dying Edward. He's fought much too long for his body to recover. He's been fighting since he was seven and it's not just been death. It's been death, his health, keeping his ship, staying alive, remaining sane, keeping to his own good, stress, depression, but nothing can compare to the lack of someone's shoulder he can go to. He's bottled everything inside of his soul and he's had enough of it."

"I just got him," whispered Teague. "I just got my son back."

"You found him a little too late," said Bill.

"No," Will said, shaking his head. "You got him back twenty nine years too late."

"So I've killed Jack then. It's my fault he's like this when I could have been my fault he died. Is that what you're telling me?" asked Teague. "I had to let Jack go. They almost killed him once."

"Aye, but you didn't quit. You quit on Jack rather than sailing and being a pirate. The idea was correct, the reasoning behind it was wrong," said Will.

Understanding, Teague nodded. He parted Jack's hair, watching his son's eyes move wildly beneath their closed lids and the expressions of discomfort and pain come and leave his face. "How long do I have with him then?"

"That depends," said Will.

"On what?" asked Teague, not sure if he wanted to know.

"If Jack ever has another illness it's over. He won't have the strength to fight," said Will.

"If he doesn't?" wondered Teague.

Will bit his lip. "A few years. Four if he's fortunate."

"Four years?" asked Teague, his voice cracking and tears slipping from his eyes.

"No more than six if his health is better than it has been lately. His condition now, even with you, can't end what's been done. Being with him as long as I have I've wondered if four is too long for him," said Will.

"You," said Teague hopeful, his eyes brighter. "You can ask him."

"To be with him then you must be part of the crew as well," warned Will.

"I'll have him then," said Teague, relief in his voice. "It's settled then."

"I never said I was going to ask him," Will said in a voice that seemed to be the personification of death itself. "I have no intention of asking him to join the crew. Nothing but death lingers with my father, the crew, the ship, and me. Death has been too great of a familiar friend to Jack in life. I'm not going to watch him manage death. I'll quicken death if he suffers. I refuse to bring more death upon him. I won't ask him. I promise you now and you can hold me to it, Jack Sparrow will never become a member of the _Flying Dutchman_ so long as I am captain."

"You'll rather kill Jack by your hand than ask him and allow him a little more life?" asked Teague.

"Aye," Will replied simply.

"Why?" asked Teague a moment later.

"Why?" Will asked himself. "It's quite simple really. I can feel, as we speak even, death around Jack and it's stronger than when I saw him before. You don't believe me I can see. I'm not the only one who manages death in this room mind you."

Bill knew he was being gazed upon without looking. "I would consider not even four years of life. He's dying Eddy and there's nothing to stop it. You're going to lose him."

Edward Teague slammed his fist on his knee. He lowered himself over Jack to palm his son's face. "I'm not going to lose him. I won't. I'll prove it to you. Jack Sparrow will be breathing five years from now and I'll force to you see him to prove it. He is going to live to see five years from now."

Will tensed as he sat up. His head turned to the outside. He clutched his arms uncomfortably.

Bill noticed his son then turned outside as well. "We have to leave Eddy. The agreement was until Jack was set on the right path again and he is. There are hundreds who still need us."

"So you're going to abandon Jack then?" asked Teague.

"No, he knows what I have to do. He wants you more than me now and that's how it should be," said Bill then walked from the room.

Will set his hand on Teague's shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"Why did you tell me?" wondered Teague.

"So you can do what you want with Jack in the time you have him and never regret not doing something with him," replied Will. "Don't tell him. He'll feel it eventually."

"Four years?" asked Teague.

Will nodded as he took a folded object from his coat to set on the table beside the bed. "I forgot to return this to Jack. You'll want to give it to him the moment he has his strength. I'll check on him in a few months."

"Thank you for doing this," said Teague.

Will looked at Jack then Teague. "Just be his father for once in his life. All he's ever wanted is his father. Let him have you while he can."

"Four years of it," whispered Teague. "Is there anything I can do to increase it?"

Speaking to nothing but air, he sighed. Outside was a bright flash. Once he finally turned his head the green glow faded. He turned to his son. Four years of life left in him. Longing for every moment with his Jack, he gently rested his head on Jack's chest to listen to the steady rhythm of his pounding heart, admiring the very essence of every beat.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Teague watched his son open his tired, weak eyes. He smiled as he brushed the side of Jack's face.

Jack shut his eyes for another moment as he clutched the hand with his right hand. He smiled at his father.

"Hello," he whispered.

"Welcome back," said Teague. "How are you feeling?"

"Me chest is sore," replied Jack. "And my head hurts. Where's Will?"

"He had to return. He said you would understand," replied Teague.

"So he left me alone with you again?" wondered Jack, slight fear coming to his eyes.

Seeing the fear, Teague shook his head as he took Jack's hand between both of his. "Never. I will never harm you in any form ever again. Do you believe what you read in the journals?"

Jack's eyes lowered in thought, but he nodded. "I don't want to because I don't want anything happening to you."

"I've been thinking about something," began Teague. Jack looked at him curiously. "You didn't kill them, any of them. Your mother was already showing signs when you came down with influenza, Bill was cursed already and he knew he could never return home when he was sent to the bottom of the ocean, Will and Elizabeth may have been dragged out to help you, but they chose to help you the second time as well as chose to save you. What happened to Will was nothing no one could have prevented. It was meant to be; Calypso said it herself. You know that don't you?"

"I suppose, but I had me hand in all of it," said Jack.

"You were in the wrong place at the wrong time with sensitive thoughts and a crushed soul already," said Teague.

A huge smile suddenly widened across Jack's face as tears came to his eyes. Unlike any other tears Teague had seen from him, these tears were happy about something.

"What is it?" wondered Teague.

"We're talking and having a conversation with each other and we're not fighting," Jack told him.

"We're truly talking with each other."

"I know. I never thought I would do this with you," said Teague. "You still look unsure."

"Habit," replied Jack. "I don't quite entirely trust you yet. Please don't hurt me."

"You have a good reason not to trust me. Waking again and talking with me like you've known me your entire life was something I wasn't expecting for a few days. You just woke and you're talking."

"Will wanted me to give you a chance. He told me to let you try and I am," replied Jack.

"How am I doing?" asked Teague.

"I don't know. I've never had a father in me life," said Jack sadly.

"Well, now you have me and I'm not going anywhere," said Teague.

Jack sighed then squeezed his eyes shut. "Right, don't breathe too deeply. Now I know why he told me not to do that."

"Can I try something?" asked Teague suddenly.

His quickness startled Jack who took time to process his words, but nodded anyway.

Teague bent over Jack. Hesitantly, he lowered then pulled away. "You don't trust me do you?"

Jack shook his head rapidly. "No I don't, but it's worth a try."

Nodding, Teague reached his hand out eventually palming Jack's face. He leaned over his son. Hesitantly, his heart beating in his throat, he lowered himself toward Jack. Too far to stop, he pressed his lips against Jack's forehead for a single moment. He pulled away and breathed in short gasps.

Jack altogether seemed to stop breathing. His eyes were distant, deep in thought about something. Tears came to his eyes. He made several attempts to speak. His body shook as he looked at his father.

"I…" he began, but nothing. " I…"

"…Love you," finished Teague.

Jack nodded. "That."

Teague pressed his lips against Jack's forehead again. He moved to the side of his head. "I love you…little sparrow."

"I don't know what love is so how I am I supposed to say that I love you?" wondered Jack, shame and guilt in his voice.

"You know what love is son, you were never aware of it consciously," said Teague.

"I love you," suggested Jack.

"Is that suggestion or a comment?" wondered Teague.

"I don't know. I've never said that to anyone in me life," said Jack honestly.

"We'll just have to change that now won't we?" asked Teague.

Jack nodded. "I suppose."

"Jack, can I try being your father?" wondered Teague.

"You are my father," noted Jack.

"I've never had the time to become a father. It's going to take time for me to learn how to take care of a son and to be a father to him," warned Teague.

"That's fine. I have all the time in the world," said Jack.

Teague turned away as tears came to his eyes. He stood to walk to the window. Will's words of four years came to his head. Four years was not all the time in the world. It wasn't close.

"So, he finally decides to bring these to me. I knew didn't have them. Ah, and he didn't change the place. I like that."

"Will said I would want to give that to you when you had your strength," noted Teague.

"I don't have me strength, but I do want this," said Jack from behind a circular devise.

Curious, Teague sat on the bed beside him. "May I look?"

"I don't think you'll understand it," warned Jack.

Teague took the odd looking paper. "What is this?"

"These Chinese sea charts stolen by Will Turner from Sao Feng's uncle in Singapore. It's not quite accurate but it leads to the end of the world and beyond. According to me it's accurate enough otherwise I wouldn't be here," said Jack. Teague looked at him oddly. "They used these to save me from the Locker and I'm going to use them to find me Aqua de Vida."

"Water of life?" wondered Teague.

"Otherwise known as the Fountain of Youth," said Jack, a smile growing on his face. "I'm not going to let Will have all the fun of immortality. I'm supposed to be Jack Sparrow, the last pirate on earth and to do that I have to be immortal. One drink from the fountain and Will is going to have said pirate for as long as he's captain. I can't very well leave him alone either. Besides, I don't think I would want to be immortal on that ship. I want to be immortal and do anything I want whenever I want and so I'm going to. All I need to do is get me _Pearl_ back from Barbossa."

"Immortality," whispered Teague, looking at his son. He sighed as small smile widened on his face. "He wanted me to give these to you. He wants you to find the fountain. Of course, no one can do anything for you. You have to do it for yourself."

"Beg pardon? Wot?" wondered Jack.

Teague shook his head. "Never mind that Jack. Now, you'll need to get your ship back somehow and I am the only one here with a ship."

Jack's eyes lit with wonder and slight fear. "So you're going to take me to Tortuga and let me get the _Pearl_ back meself then?"

Teague shook his head. "You're not going anywhere out of my sight with a concussion, sore arm, bruised and broken ribs. I'm going with you. I'll get the _Pearl_ back for you. You're coming with me Jack and we, together, are going to get your ship back."

"We, together, two people, you and I, me and you, us?" asked Jack.

"If you want me to that is," added Teague.

Jack nodded his head rapidly as he smiled.

"Of course we'll need a heading," said Teague, pulling Jack's compass from his coat pocket. He gave it to Jack. "Well Captain Sparrow…"

Jack took his compass, his face glowing with pride. He flipped open the compass and looked to where it was pointing. He looked at his father. "Move out of the way. It's pointed directly where you are."

"I need to stretch my legs anyway," said Teague as he stood.

He walked around the room organizing a small mess he made prior and stretched his arms. When he turned back to Jack he saw his son shaking the compass as hard as possible before dropping it on the bed and folding his arm.

"What?"

"It doesn't work," replied Jack.

"Let me try," said Teague with a heavy sigh.

He took the compass, opened it, and walked about the room. Eventually, he shook it as well and tried again.

"It's not broken Jack," he said.

"But it won't stop pointing at you," Jack whined.

Teague looked at him watching it dawn on his face. He sat beside Jack and set his arm around him.

Jack rested his head against his father's chest as he was pulled tighter against his body. He inhaled deeply. "You smell like vanilla. I like vanilla."

"Now try," whispered Teague, handing Jack the compass.

Jack opened his unusual compass. The needle spun then held steady just past north. As soon as the smile came to his face, the needle turned and pointed back to his father.

Teague shut the compass. "We'll have to try another day."

"It really isn't broken," Jack whispered.

"I know," replied Teague. "I really do want you most."

"And I want you," said Jack. "And I have you so I don't know why it won't point to me ship."

"Because you completely want me, father and everything with father," said Teague.

He pulled Jack tighter against him without having him sit up or moving his torso as much.

Jack's head rested in his lap on his pillow. He clutched his father's arm what was around his chest.

The two of them sat in silence together. It was obvious the compass wasn't lying because it still pointed at Jack when Teague set it in his hand.

"Can I ask you something?" asked Jack softly.

Teague sighed. "Mm-hm."

"Forget it mate," said Jack. "I'll ask it again when the moment is opportune."

Teague nodded. He looked at the compass again. The needle pointed southwestern. Knowing his directions well, it was pointing toward Florida. What small amount of time he saw the charts and the legend, the Fountain of Youth was just off the coast of Florida. A smile widened across his face as he set his other arm around Jack. Eventually, he and Jack would have all the time in the world to be father and son.

* * *

No longer having the patience, Teague stormed into Jack's room. He sat beside him then gently shook his shoulder.

"Jackie, wake up. We have to go. Jackie," he called.

"Not going anywhere. Too sore," Jack groaned.

"Come on Jack, you're fine," said Teague.

Jack looked at him. "You're not the one who had an ancient bullet taken from him and bruised ribs and a broken arm."

"No, but your arm is fine and your ribs will heal. You laid in bed for two days healing," said Teague.

"Can you just leave me here alone? I want to sleep," said Jack.

Teague sighed. He grasped the edge of the blanket lying on Jack then pulled it down.

Jack whimpered as he curled his legs against his chest. "Wot?"

"Do you not want the _Pearl_? Besides, when was the last time I let you sail on the _Star_ with me and perhaps captain her for a time?" said Teague, his voice complete with enthusiasm.

Jack's eyes widened in wonder as they brightened.

Teague held out his hand. "Come on, we need to get you dressed and I have you to look you over one last time."

"Are you sure I'll be all right at sea?" wondered Jack.

"Just as long as you don't come down with something," noted Teague.

"No, I'm either hurt or ill and since I'm hurt right now I won't be ill. Well, then again I'm not a technically hurt I'm healing and when I'm ill I need to heal as well so I very well could come down with something since I'm not technically hurt anymore but I am sore which can count as being hurt since I am in pain. Ah, I won't get something then because being sore is being hurt. Right?"

Teague looked at him oddly. "Jack, in English please."

Jack's face went red and angered slightly. "Will can even understand me."

"Well I'm not Will nor have I been around you for very long," noted Teague.

"At least not when I'm awake you left before I had the chance to wake up," added Jack.

"I was afraid and I didn't know what to do. You know this," said Teague.

"Yes, but you should have stayed with me when I was hurt. You didn't even stay with m when my head was coined," said Jack.

"I couldn't. I was a mess from that," Teague told him.

"But you should have," Jack snapped.

Teague opened his mouth then immediately shut it. He shook his head as he went around the room collecting clothing and other necessities for Jack. "Jackie, I'm not doing this with you. We are not going to argue anymore."

"I want to," Jack told him.

"I've argued with you more times than you remember. I don't want to argue," said Teague.

"But," began Jack but immediately shut his mouth when Teague looked at him.

Instead, Jack grumbled. He eventually pushed himself up and sat there merely watching his father move about the room in quite a hurry.

"Why are you doing that so quickly? It's not going to take ten years to find me ship and the Fountain," he noted.

"The sooner the better," said Teague.

"So you can leave me again," assumed Jack.

"Do want me to come over there and give you a good beating?" asked Teague, everything in his arms dropping to the floor. The tone in his voice was louder and more authoritative.

Jack cowered against the bed. "No," he told him in a small voice.

"Then stop acting like a child," said Teague.

"I never had a childhood so I have to act like a child sometimes," said Jack. "I thought you said I grew up out of the annoying little child I was."

"You did. Why are you acting like this now?"

"This is how I always am. Annoying and confusing."

"I suppose. Bill often told me about you. It seems he was correct in every way."

"Wot did he say about me? Why was I never told?"

"He said you were confusing, mad, confusing, insane, confusing, and lonely."

Jack smiled through his teeth as he nodded. "That's about right."

"I see that now. Are you still going to act shy around me?"

"Maybe for a time until I can trust you."

"You know I trust you."

"No you don't and if you do you won't for much longer."

"Why not?"

"You've never seen me at sea have you?"

"No I haven't."

"Yeah, you won't trust me and you'll think the sun is poison to me mind, which it is."

"Jack, I know why your mind is peculiar. I cooled the reasons why you think the way you do."

"Right, the fevers."

"Aye."

"Did anything like that ever happen to you?"

"It happens to everyone Jack, but not in the manor it happened to you."

"You know, I really don't catch anything anymore. I think me body finally knows what not to allow in."

"That's because your life has fought to stay away which is now fighting just to stay alive."

"Wot is that supposed to mean?"

"Never mind Jack. You'll never have need to know once you drink from the Fountain."

"Why do you want me to be immortal?"

"It will do you good and I won't ever have to see you nearly dead ever again. I don't want anyone bringing my son to me hoping I can save his life again. I'm going to die from stress rather than war. I used to believe stress and fear were going to kill me."

"I never thought about death and I didn't much care. Whatever happened happened. If you just make life up as you go along you don't know when death will come about because it will just come along like the rest."

"Jack look at me and tell me you've never thought once you were going to die."

"All right then, I always think about dying, but I don't actually think dying. I think of it as something bad was made up along the way."

"Are you still afraid of dying?"

"Are you mate?"

"I can't say because I don't know what it is. I've never truly come across it. I don't consider watching someone dying and truly feeling what it is to be on the verge of death the same. I've never had a near death encounter."

"You're luck mate. I've had…"

"Jack, I don't think you can count that high."

"Are you saying I'm not intelligent?"

"No I'm saying there isn't a number large enough to dictate the number of your near death experiences."

"All right so there isn't and I don't think I can count that high."

"You can. Trust me, you're a smart boy."

"I'm smart?"

"In your own Jack Sparrow like form."

"Then I'm not smart; I'm just confusing."

"Yes you're confusing I think you'll be fine at sea."

"It took you that long just to answer me question?" Jack asked astonished.

"Well, at least you're packed and ready to leave," noted Teague, seeing he was sitting on Jack's packed chest.

"I wonder wot's going to happened when we really talk. Meaning having a conversation about something and not random things that come to mind," said Jack.

"Since you've been talking how is your chest?" asked Teague as he went to Jack's side.

"Sore," replied Jack.

Teague nodded as he pulled the bandages from Jack's torso. He felt the bruised skin around several ribs and stitched the wound with new thread. He took new bandages to his son's cut hand. Last of all, he bandaged Jack's torso with more cloth than before, ensuring a healthy healing to his weakened ribs. Missing his Captain Jack, he braided his boy's hair and strung the beads back amongst the dreadlocks. He gave Jack the rest of his whimsical knickknacks to put back on his person. All but the bandana was allowed, the reason being his concussion, and the kohl from his bloodshot eye.

Eventually, Captain Jack Sparrow, as he should be, stood in front of a mirror. His bandana hung from his sash. In the mirror he watched his father approach him. He was pulled close after and arm went around his shoulder.

"You look more like your mother than you know Jack," noted Teague. "You don't at all look like me. Your mother had the same hair color and eyes as you and her face looked just like yours. You have the only Teague trait." He took Jack's right hand to align the fingers with his. "Teague's have long, slender fingers. You have long slender fingers."

"So I should change me name to Jack Teague then?" wondered Jack.

"Of course not. The world knows Jack Sparrow. That name is easier to remember. Jack Teague has no flair like Jack Sparrow does," said Teague. He leaned closer to Jack. "Besides, with the trouble you cause I would change my name to Sparrow if you used Teague."

Jack went red in the cheeks but smiled.

"Do you want to go now?" asked Teague.

Jack nodded. He turned to face him. "You're not just doing this to make me think I'm sailing with you only to be abandoned at Tortuga again or kill me because I know who you really are and you really love me."

"Do you not believe me when I say I love you?" asked Teague. Jack shrugged. "Honestly son. You should know by now I've settled my conscience and I want to try something I've never done before."

"Wot's that?" wondered Jack.

Teague smacked him on the side of the head lightly.

Jack ducked and yelped, not quite avoiding his father's knock of sense in him. "Are you sure I'm well enough to sail?"

"Just as long as you don't catch anything you'll be fine," reminded Teague. "And if I do feel something is wrong you'll spend your days swinging from the ceiling sleeping. I apologize now for this Jack, but you will not be on deck when I find Barbossa. If something goes wrong I'll not have you be in the center and risk another injury. Ribs are the most difficult to heal, as you are more common to use your torso among the rest."

"I know, I know. Will already told me this," said Jack as he began walking from the room. He turned again. "Are you sure I'll be fine?"

Teague gave him a look causing him to immediately leave the room and board the _Star_.

Upon setting foot on the ship the many crewmembers went to Jack to talk to him again in relief. They also told him they knew all along the connection between him and his father.

"Jackie," called Teague. "Come take your affects."

Jack nodded as he heaved his chest of nonsense aboard the ship. He stood in the middle of deck then sat on the chest, watching the rest of the men work around him.

"Jackie, can you please sit somewhere less in the middle of things?" requested Teague.

"I don't know where I'm supposed to sleep," said Jack.

Teague pointed at the doors to the captain's cabin. "In there."

Jack looked at him oddly. "I'm not allowed in there."

"If you and I are going to do this you need to set the past behind you. You don't have to wait for my permission or words of wisdom as to what you can or cannot do. The past is the past. It has already happened and therefore will not be returning," said Teague.

"But the past also influences one's future," noted Jack.

"Do you want me to abandon you in Tortuga and have everything go back to the way it was before?" Teague shouted.

Jack merely looked at him. "That won't work mate. I'll know you don't mean it."

Teague snapped his hand toward the doors. "Then go settle in."

"Your quarters?" asked Jack.

Teague gave him a look.

Jack nodded as he dragged his chest to the doors, opened them, and shut them.

"He's paranoid," noted Les Char.

"About what?" asked Francis.

"Well obviously," said Les Char.

"What?" wondered Francis.

"He's unsure over my every action," said Teague. "He's afraid I'll abandon him again. He doesn't trust me."

"Oh that," said Francis. "You can't blame the lad."

Teague nodded as he walked off.

Inside his father's quarters, Jack glanced around suddenly missing his _Black Pearl_ more and more. He suddenly began to miss Will and Elizabeth more as well. Feeling terrible he sat in a chair at the table and put his feet up where he began eating a banana from a fruit basket on the table. Not wanting to do that, the sun gleamed from a black guitar in the corner of the room. Seeing it was his favorite one, he picked it up, sat exactly how he had minutes ago and began playing something he hadn't in a very long time.

"That was your lullaby."

Jack raised his head from the guitar. "I know."

"I wrote it for you before you were born."

"And mum?"

"She thought of the words."

Jack smiled. "That sounds like her a lot."

"If only she were still alive," noted Teague as he began stepping forward. "I just have to settle with you and that's not a bad thing after all mind you."

Jack's smile grew. He looked at the placement of his fingers. "Tell me wot you think of this."

He looked over his fingers again then began strumming.

Teague listened to the music coming from the guitar. His eyes fell shut as he slumped to the floor it seemed to him. The melody carried like waves upon the sea, forever gliding with grace and ease. The notes flew from the strings, flying as gulls do around the room.

Everything was quiet again. Teague turned to Jack who gazed at the guitar looking lost.

"That's all I've got. I haven't finished it yet and I've wanted to make it into a duet. I've been writing this for years and years, since I was a marine in recall," noted Jack.

"A duet?" wondered Teague.

Jack nodded as his head slowly fell to his chest. "Aye."

"Do you know the other part?" asked Teague.

"I haven't written it, but I know how I want it to g between," said Jack.

Teague picked up another guitar. He sat beside Jack. "Teach me." Jack looked at him oddly. "Jackie, don't look at me like that. You want a duet and I am your father. Think of it as completing the composition that is your life."

"I like that," noted Jack.

"Well, come on Jack. Don't waste time," said Teague.

Jack showed him where to place his fingers. "Wait a minute, don't touch any string. Do we have a heading?" Do we even know where to begin looking for the _Pearl_? My compass went missing after that night."

Teague fumbled around shi person until he brought out the compass. He peeked at it then looked toward the sun. He nodded as he set the compass on the table. "Aye, I do have the correct heading. We'll get your ship back Jackie. I promise."

"I'm worried about how long it will take to find her and wot condition she'll be in," noted Jack with a heavy sigh. He strummed with discomfort on his face.

"Me also Jack, me also," agreed Teague softly.

Jack nodded. He showed his father the first finger placement.

Teague watched Jack and listened to him.

The two stayed in there together through the rest of the day. They laughed whenever one of them played a wrong note, both forgetting about Jack's broken ribs. They talked and randomly strummed notes as well as having a small competition to which on played guitar better. Not quite a shock to either, Teague had better talent. Most of the time their conversations consisted of each other's past and random events that transpired. Above all, they laughed and laughed, which both did regret in time.

Unfortunately Jack was sore the following day. He rocked back and forth in the hammock in his father's quarters. He didn't have to be told to rest and not move very much. Everything in his torso was sore, but he was more comfortable than he was in the Cove

He sighed heavily then cursed at himself for breathing deeply.

"What did you do?" asked Teague as he quickly went to his side.

"I sighed," replied Jack.

"Are you fine?" asked Teague.

Jack nodded. "Do you know where we're going?"

"I don't know," said Teague.

"Wot island is near?" asked Jack.

"The direction passes near Jamaica," replied Teague.

Jack's eyes widened as he groaned. "The Navy has her."

"You don't know that."

"Yes I do.

"No you don't."

"Yes I do."

"Barbossa won't allow the _Pearl_ to come to the hands of the Royal Navy. If he wants the ehps as badly as he does he'll keep a good eye on her."

"That's wot I'm afraid of," admitted Jack.

"Why? I've never known you to be afraid of anything," noted Teague.

"I was afraid of you," whispered Jack.

"And I was afraid of you so in the end we're really just afraid of everything then since you are my life and you always have been my life and you're life has always been gaining me which you have and I have you so you don't have reason to fear anything," said Teague.

Jack looked at him with an expression of bewilderment. "Wot?"

"There is nothing to fear anymore," said Teague.

"I know that," said Jack.

Teague opened his mouth to speak then decided against it. Instead, he asked if his son needed anything else.

"A pen and paper and something to write on," replied Jack.

"What for?" wondered Teague.

"I have to finish something of course," said Jack. He waved his hands to his father to make him move. "Shoo."

Teague rolled his eyes. As he grumbled under his breath he collected Jack's requests.

"Well I obviously don't want to move," said Jack.

"And I don't want you to," agreed Teague. "What are you going to do?"

"Finish something I should have days ago. You'll want it soon I know," said Jack, his expression distant and fear passing into his eyes.

Understanding, Teague nodded. He quietly left his son alone to finish what had to be done.

Bright and early, Jack presented the final papers to his Caribbean report to his father. Fortunately, there was no evidence of tears upon his face, in part because it was something he had not choice but to do.

"Are you all right?" asked Teague.

Jack nodded and exhaled deeply. Pain passed across his face for a moment then settled. "It had to be done."

"I would have preferred them sooner, yet I wasn't expecting them as soon as you did," was Teague's only response to Jack's review.

Jack looked at him. He pointed his finger to himself and his father several times. "We're not on the same topic mate. I'm talking about Will and wot I did to save him." He drew a line across his chest with his forefinger.

"Oh, that," noted Teague. "Are you all right though?"

"I'm fine mate. It's over and done with and I never have to think of that again in me life," said Jack.

Teague raised his eyebrows. "Well, I think you need to learn to captain a ship again so you'll treat the _Pearl_ with perfection when she comes back to you," he noted.

Jack's eyes grew with excitement. He glanced behind him then pointed at himself. "Me?" Teague nodded. "Are you sure that's a good idea. My arm-"

"Your arm is fine Jackie," said Teague.

"But the pressure and weight against me torso and ribs. That's not good," noted Jack.

"Suit yourself. I was simply making the offer," said Teague as he turned.

Jack watched him walk upon the helm stairs, climb them, the flip open the compass to verify the direction.

"Go on," a voice in Jack's head told him.

"Father," Jack called as he scrambled to his father's side.

"Yes Jack," replied Teague, rather annoyed.

Jack slowly approached him. His appearance was meek and shy. "Can I?"

Jack pointed at the wheel.

Teague nodded.

Jack pointed at the compass.

Teague nodded.

Jack pointed at the table of sea charts.

Teague nodded, stepping aside

A smile lit upon Jack's face as his hands wrapped around the wheel. Certain satisfaction and feeling of home and belonging passed through him. He sighed.

"I need to stop doing that," he whispered as discomfort went across his face. "But I'll be fine because I've done it too many times."

"You are a slow learner," noted Teague.

"No," said Jack, shaking his head and looking at him. "I just do things as I go along. I have had plans once and that ended in me having to kill my best and only friend. I didn't technically kill him, but I helped so I did kill him because he didn't have the strength to kill himself."

"And you say I don't make sense," said Teague.

"You don't mate. Sorry," said Jack apologetically.

He checked his compass then whipped his head at his father. Shaking his own head, he shook the compass in frustration. Still, he turned to his father.

"Have you considered the compass direction just happens to be where I'm standing?" wondered Teague.

Jack shooed him out of the way. "Then shoo."

"You need to talk to me with more respect young pirate," said Teague.

Jack just smiled as he turned back to the direction. His appearance lessened. "You were right. It was just pointing where you were standing."

Teague nodded in satisfaction.

Jack adjusted course then handed the helm over to Luis. He clutched the rail as he made for the stairs where he sat. He buried his face in his palm.

"Jack," whispered Teague as he went to sit beside his son. "What is it?"

"Me head hurts," Jack told him.

"More than a normal ache?" asked Teague.

Jack nodded. "It hurts like it did before."

"Oh, I see," noted Teague. He helped Jack to his quarters where he got Jack settled in the hammock. "You stay in here and rest. It's not very bright at all so the sun shouldn't harm you much."

"I wish I hadn't fallen again," whispered Jack.

"Does it feel like pressure or a simple ache?" asked Teague, worry coming to him.

"It just aches. I'll tell you when it feels like it's going to blow up," said Jack. He glanced around for his chest. "Can I have me book?"

"Which one?" asked Teague.

"Mum's stories," said Jack. "I haven't read them in a long time and I've forgotten most of them anyway."

"I'll come check on you later all right? I think you merely need time out of the sun," said Teague.

Jack nodded, his eyes already pouring through the words of his mother's stories. He read them through the day until his eyes fell shut just after sunset.

Teague walked in the room quietly. Seeing his Jack was sleeping, he smiled softly. He took the book from across Jack's chest to place a thin blanket more around his body. Looking at his face he saw the pain and discomfort his son wasn't able to hide in sleep. During the day Jack hid the pain and suffering his mind and body went through. At night, when he slept, it came through his entire body.

Glancing at the book himself, he paged through a bit of the stories while reading a few of the words in them. It had been even longer since he read them. He couldn't recall any of the stories Aisling had about the stars. He peeked at Jack and decided he was going to be asleep for quite a while.

Not feeling the least bit tired, Teague walked on deck where he settled himself against the foremast. He set a lantern on the barrel beside him to provide light, removed his boots, and hat and read what he forgot long ago.

Soon after finishing the stories, he found himself staring at the stars on his back in the middle of deck, arms behind head and book open across his chest.

"Can I have me book back?"

Teague sat up and turned his head. "You should be sleeping Jack."

"I can't sleep; I'm not in the mood," replied Jack.

Teague motioned beside him. "What's troubling you now?"

Jack plopped beside his father. "Wot would Shipwreck Cove be, land or sea?"

"The base is land and the rest is sea. I believe it is more sea than land, but it also depends where one is standing," said Teague. He looked at Jack. "I don't know if your mother died on land or sea."

Jack looked at him oddly. "How did you know that was wot I was thinking?"

"I know you Jack. Not all your questions were answered," said Teague.

"I hope she died on land. I don't want to think of her having been floating in the dead sea for all those years, but I wish she died at sea too. If she died at sea then she can tell Will about us and he can tell us about her," said Jack.

"He won't know who your mother is," said Teague.

"She has to say her name at least once. The whelp is smart. I think he'll know whose mother she is," noted Jack.

"I don't know if she died at sea though Jack. I truly don't know," Teague told him. "And I agree with you. I just want her to be where she belongs rather than lost among the rest."

"At least, if she is still floating, Will will know wot to do," noted Jack.

Teague nodded. He returned to lie on his back and gaze at the stars.

Jack followed his example except he only had his left arm behind his head.

They lay beside each other in silence, neither knowing what to say, yet both wanting to talk. This father and son thing was still very new in their minds.

"Jack can I ask you a question?" wondered Teague.

"You don't have to ask me to ask me a question," said Jack.

"If you knew you were going to die in a few years and there was nothing you could do about it what would you want to do?" asked Teague.

Jack looked at him. "Oh, now I understand why you asked me to ask me a question. Why do you want to know?"

"You should have died too many times ago and I was wondering what you haven't done in your life that you want to do," added Teague.

Jack exhaled deeply. Once again forgetting, he cursed under his breath. "I don't know. I have you now and that was the only reason I wanted to live. I just wanted to be your son. If I died tomorrow I would be content as a cucumber about it."

Teague shut his eyes. "That's not exactly what I want to hear. Surely there must be something you haven't done yet."

"There is one thing," whispered Jack. "But I don't know if I'll be very good at it."

"Try me," said Teague.

"I," began Jack then sat up. He walked to the bow where he leaned on the rail.

Teague looked at him. He slowly followed.

"I don't know wot I want," admitted Jack. "I can't do anything it want to do. If I free Will then I'll lose Elizabeth and Bill. I don't want to love you too much because you'll die in a few years. Pirates are near dead." Jack shrugged. "Wot more is there to do in the world? I've done everything."

"You can live," noted Teague.

"I am living," said Jack.

Teague shook his head. "You've never truly lived. You have always had a half-life, barely hanging on. Your entire life has been lived with pain. You're always cold because you're tiny. You catch an illness every year of your life. You've nearly died more times than I can recall. No one has ever shown you he cares. The world takes its advantage upon you. You have never truly existed to man. You've always been just there. No one will ever think of your name again. The war is over and you're dying with the rest of the pirates."

"You're dying with me too mate. You are a pirate," noted Jack.

"Jack," began Teague softly. "You're dying."

Jack nodded. "I know. All of us pirates are."

"No, Jack, you're _dying_," said Teague.

"Wotever," said Jack as he turned and began to walk.

"Will says you have four years to live, five if your health improves from what you've had these past few years," said Teague. Jack stopped. "Your entire life you've been fighting away death. You've been in pain because you're trying to hide how helpless you feel. You know you're dying. I know you do. You've known since you were young. You can't run away from death forever. It's finally caught up to you and you're defenseless against it. If you ever acquire another illness you won't recover. You won't be alive afterward. You're losing the battle for your life. You're going to get weaker and weaker each day and you're going to feel more and more terrible. I'm going to lose you in four years and that last year is going to be painful because you're still going to want to fight even though you know. I know you know this."

"Do you know wot I want to do?" asked Jack, his back still to his father.

"No, I don't," said Teague.

Jack turned his head. "I want to have me own family. I want to marry someone have my own little ones." He leaned against the mast. "I've always known I was dying even before I came back from the Locker. I only wanted to be captain because I would be immortal and I wouldn't have to worry about death. I gave it to Will because I realized I couldn't live a life without him or Elizabeth. I was already living without you so I didn't care about never seeing you. Bill would have followed Will the moment he was found. You would have died and everyone else would have died. I realized I didn't want immortality. I just wanted the pain to go away. I don't want to feel like I'm dying anymore. I just want to die. I don't care about anything anymore. If I'm going to die then let me die tomorrow. You have no idea how badly I want to die and just leave everything behind."

"Have you heard of something called Aqua de Vida?" asked Teague.

"I don't know if I want it. Why do I want to be the last pirate on Earth if I can't even be who I am?" wondered Jack.

"You won't be the only one," said Teague.

"Will, Elizabeth, and Bill are all going to be on that ship," reminded Jack.

"Well, what if you and drink Aqua de Vida together?" wondered Teague.

"You wouldn't do that," said Jack.

"You aren't my mind now are you?" asked Teague. "I'm helping you find the _Pearl_ so I can go with you and find the water for you. We need more time. Four years isn't enough to have my son. Aqua de Vida has limitless options. You can do whatever you want when you want. Jack, Anamaria has been waiting years. She'll follow you if you ask. She wants to marry you."

"Do you know wot it's like to die your entire life?" asked Jack.

"Do you know what it's like to live?" wondered Teague.

Jack shook his head. "I think that is wot it want most. It's always been wot I've wanted most."

Teague stood beside him. "I will follow you through every age of this word and adapt as you have to. You won't be the last pirate left alone. I'll be there with you. I want to you to live a true life. Even immortal is not a true life, but it's going to be as close as we can get to you truly living a life. If you truly don't want to live then I'll let you go."

"You would kill me if I wanted to die?" asked Jack.

Teague nodded. "And you wouldn't feel it."

Jack's eyes circled the horizon, sky, and everywhere in between. "Well, then I suppose I can't let you live alone. After all, I have to be the last pirate on Earth. I already told too many people I would be."

Teague smiled. "You'll take Aqua de Vida?"

"Only after you," replied Jack.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Tortuga. Both Jack and Teague looked at each other and the compass again and again.

"Are you sure this compass works?" wondered Teague.

"I don't know," admitted Jack. "It's got me things in the past so I think it works."

"Jack, she looks just fine," called Martín.

Jack yelped as he sprinted to him and pushed him aside. Through the spyglass, he observed the only ship in the world made for him. His beloved _Black Pearl_ was in top condition and floated gently against the dock.

"I'm going to kill him," he announced as he shoved the glass against Martín.

"I'll be the one doing that," said Teague.

"Only after me," said Jack, already preparing a longboat for his arrival aboard his ship.

Not even Teague wanted to upset Jack at the moment. There was a bit too much anger and vengeance behind his eyes.

It wasn't long before Jack stepped upon the deck of his _Black Pearl_. He sighed slowly walked across deck, feeling the contours of his ship. He went to the helm and grasped the wheel.

"I'm so sorry. I'll never let him have you again," he promised.

"Jack?"

Jack turned. "Marty, wot are you doing here."

"What are you doing here?" asked Marty.

"Wot do you think I'm doing. I'm taking me ship back," said Jack.

"Mother's love, Jack, you're alive!" cried Gibbs.

Jack's eyes widened. "Mr. Gibbs, wot are you doing here."

"I quit on women. They're nothing but bad luck," said Gibbs.

"Who is all here?" wondered Jack.

"Myself, Marty, Cotton, Mullroy, and Murtogg," replied Gibbs.

"Who are the last two?" asked Jack.

"The odd marines who make terrible pirates," replied Gibbs.

"Oh those two," noted Jack. "Where is Barbossa? I'm going to kill him."

"Faithful Bride," replied Gibbs.

"Where?" Teague growled.

"Faithful Bride," replied Jack.

Teague set his hands on Jack's shoulders. "You wait outside until I'm through with Barbossa. I won't do anything to harm him. You can do that. I want to say a few words to him is all."

"Fine," agreed Jack, his face turning into a pout.

"Jackie don't worry, he'll be just overjoyed to see you," said Teague, his voice rather sarcastic.

"How am I supposed to know when you're through?" wondered Jack.

"You'll know," said Teague. "Come on, let's say hello to your old friend."

Jack's eyes narrowed into a glare as he stormed off the ship.

"I've never seen you two talk so calmly before," admitted Gibbs.

"Josh, come with us, I'll explain along the way," said Teague.

As Teague explained what happened between him and Jack to Gibbs, Jack pushed his way through the crowds of wenches and drunken sailors and the usual pirates lingering on the island.

Teague pushed Jack against the side of the tavern. "Wait until I'm done."

Jack grumbled as he folded his arms. "Fine."

"Thank you," replied Teague.

He walked in the tavern, whistling A Pirate's Life. Glancing at the faces, he spotted Barbossa at the bar with women on each side of his arm as well as sailors pleading to join the crew. He casually approached the pirate.

"Hector Barbossa, it has been a while," he noted.

Barbossa smiled at him. "Teague, out and about. Don't see you from the Cove often."

"Yes, I was wondering if you knew where Jack was," noted Teague.

"Why would he be here?" asked Barbossa.

"I don't know. Perhaps he's here somewhere because his ship is here," noted Teague. Barbossa's eyes widened. "Truly, where the _Black Pearl_ lies Jack Sparrow is not far. I need to collect his review of the Caribbean."

"I don't know where Jack is at the moment," Barbossa told him.

Teague nodded. He sat beside Barbossa. "I'll wait. Jack will come by eventually."

Barbossa nodded with a forced smile. He turned away and looked at his crew who slowly began piling toward the corners of the room.

"You seem like something is wrong," noted Teague.

"Nothing's wrong," said Barbossa. "Everything is in order."

"Not quite," said Teague.

"What makes you say that?" asked Barbossa.

Edward Teague swung the compass around his fingers. "Perhaps it may be that I have Jack's compass, the charts Jack acquired from Sao Feng, Jack's bandana and hat, or that I braided his hair a few days ago as well as set the beads back in it. Perhaps not everything is in order because Jack has been with me in Shipwreck Cove for over a month." He looked at Barbossa who had terror on his face. "Tell me, how is it Jack didn't sail here on the _Pearl_."

Barbossa shrugged innocently. "That surely is remarkably interesting."

Teague nodded. "So it is. Do you have anything to say because I have a few words?"

"Not that I can think of at the moment," said Barbossa.

Teague nodded once more. He finished the rum in the bottle beside him before saying his few words.

Once the words came from his mouth every sailor in the room began to blush and turn away. Such nature of foul language had never before entered the ears of every sailor in the room.

Barbossa sat at the bar, his face going more and more pale and eyes widening with terror.

Outside, a crowd began to build near the door in wonder as to who had such mouth of words to say. Some were devastated at the nature of Teague, others admired him, and there were those who would never see a father more caring of his son.

As soon as Teague's mouth closed and he ordered a drink, the room roared with wild clapping and cheering.

Barbossa sat on his stool questioning if it was wise to breathe near Teague.

"You can come in now Jack. I've said all I wanted," called Teague.

Jack Sparrow entered the tavern with Scarlett and Giselle on either side of him, under his arms. They walked just as dignified as he did.

"Excuse me ladies," said Jack as he approached Barbossa.

He punched Barbossa in the face as hard and with as much force as his arm allowed. He then smiled.

"Hello Hector," he greeted.

Barbossa clutched his nose.

"Now as I was saying how about that ride I promised," Jack said as he turned toward the ladies again.

"Oh, Edward, I'm glad you told Jack," said Giselle.

"Finally," added Scarlett.

Teague bowed his head in appreciation.

"Jack Sparrow," a female called.

Jack turned his head to the voice.

Anamaria walked up to him and slapped him across the face.

Scarlett and Giselle clapped.

"I deserved that didn't I?" asked Jack.

Anamaria began to beat on him.

"Ana, don't kill him. He's been through a lot lately," said Teague as he pulled her away.

"_He's_ been through a lot?" asked Anamaria, sarcasm in her voice.

"Well yes," said Teague. "He lost the _Pearl_ again, had to put up with me as well as several injuries, and we've done quite a bit of mental harm to each other for the past month and he nearly died again. He's still recovering."

"That's all in the past," noted Anamaria. "He doesn't have to carry a child in his stomach for the next seven months."

Jack's eyes widened as he mouth dropped. He looked at his father. "Did I mention Barbossa took the ship the second day? There was a night between when I arrived and left. Almost immediately after arriving I found her and we had a night together." He looked at her stomach. "Are you sure? You don't look fat."

"I'm sure. I haven't gone through something women are supposed to in two months," said Anamaria.

Jack shrugged. "Oh well, that just means you'll have to come with me, marry me, and help me raise the little one."

Anamaria pointed a threatening finger at him then she slowly dropped it realizing what Jack said.

"I'm sorry," said Jack. "I should have done this a long time ago."

He dropped to a knee. Looking at her he raised his forefinger. He glanced at the rings on his fingers for several moments before settling on the one on his pinky, his mother's diamond ring.

"Will you marry me?" he asked. "Please. I'll try to be a good husband. Really I will. I don't know if I can be, but I'll try."

Anamaria looked at him with tears in her eyes. "You want to marry me?"

"You don't want me to marry you then?" asked Jack, his body slumping. He stood with disappointment on his face. "If that's how you want it then all right."

He shrugged as he walked past her.

"Jack!" Anamaria cried as she rushed to him.

She whipped him around then yanked his lips against hers. She took the ring from in his palm and set in on her finger before pulling Jack against her more.

Teague smiled at the scene. He glanced around the room. "Turn away. Give my son some decent privacy."

Talk immediately resumed as well as the small fights.

"Yes, yes of course I'll marry you," whispered Anamaria.

"There is one small thing," said Jack, showing her the tiny amount his fingers. "I'm going to drink Aqua de Vida and be immortal."

"Then you and I will have the longest marriage," said Anamaria before kissing Jack again.

Jack pulled her away. "Second actually. Will and Elizabeth married before us and they're going to live just as long,"

"Whatever," said Anamaria as she kissed him again and again.

"I have a feeling we are never going to get the ride," noted Giselle.

"No," Scarlett said with a sigh.

Giselle smiled as she looked at the two. "It's very romantic though."

Barbossa looked at Teague. "Does this mean I can go?"

Teague shrugged. "Jack, what do you want to do about him?"

Jack pushed Anamaria aside. "Excuse me luv." Still with her hand in his causing her to follow him, Jack approached Barbossa again. "I have a new title for you. Governor Barbossa of Rumrunner's Island."

Barbossa groaned as he covered his aching nose again.

* * *

Like Will told Teague, he returned to the world of the living to check on Jack who had never been better in his life.

Jack was immortal along with his father.

As for Anamaria, she agreed to take immortality after the baby was born and no longer depended on her for food. The island in the middle of nowhere would always wait for her.

By request, Will gladly married Jack and Anamaria by condition they go to a small island in the Bahamas and stay with Elizabeth for a few months.

Anamaria thought it most appropriate. She knew Elizabeth was going to need female company and another friend other than her cousin.

Even Jack approved. He was frightened nearly to death while Anamaria was at sea. He didn't want anything to happen to his wife and little one.

Will was simply relieved Elizabeth didn't have to raise their child alone. He felt terrible enough she was pregnant and he was never around. With Anamaria and Jack everything was going to be fine again.

Jack did have one small request. Seeing as he knew nothing about children and raising anyone, he wished his father to stay and help.

Much to his regret and delight, more regret than delight at the moment, Teague found himself watching his _Star of Madagascar_ sail back to Shipwreck Cove with him not on it. He stood at the dock below the cliff where Elizabeth and her cousin lived.

He always hoped Jack would become his son once again, but never, not once, did he imagine Jack becoming a father.

Father and son. The very idea of it still brought chills through his spine and what frightened him the most was that it wasn't happening to him, but Jack.

* * *

PS: i **am** still writing _Beyond the Horizon._ It's taking longer than i thought. Sorry!!


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